


Bad Luck Bilbo

by A_Winter



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Drama, Eventual Romance, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 42,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Winter/pseuds/A_Winter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if you were made to choose whether or not misfortune would hit you? If you could choose not to trip on that rock or break that plate. What if you could take on someone else's misfortune for them? Would you, even if you couldn't remember in the morning? This is the question asked of every creature in Middle Earth, every night while they dream. </p><p>Bilbo Baggins, a respectable if unlucky Hobbit of the Shire also answers these questions. The only difference is when he wakes up, he remembers. </p><p>(Also known as: Bilbo isn't as unlucky as people think he is, he's just a really great guy... Add a meddling wizard and some honourable but suspicious Dwarves and see what happens?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Bad-Luck-Bilbo

A/N: Please don’t hate me if I get anything wrong, this is my first Hobbit Fan fiction and I’m only halfway through the book (which has currently gone on a fieldtrip). This will mostly be set in the Movie Universe and will follow along the same lines with some plot twists. I did a lot of research into the Valar etc. while writing this so I’m sorry if anything doesn’t make sense or if it’s wrong… If anything doesn’t make sense please let me know and I’ll revise or add research links at the bottom. I’ve tried to make it as reader friendly as possible and would love feedback.  
<3 Thankyou 

Prologue

People tend to think I’m rather unfortunate and clumsy for a Hobbit; what no one, but a tall and mischievous wizard, knows is that I’m not. To quote Gandalf I’m “the bravest little creature this side of the Misty Mountains”. I don’t know about that, after all I’m only doing what any decent Hobbit would do… right?

However I suppose I’m not making a great deal of sense, I suppose I will need to begin at the beginning and try and explain from there. Before I begin my story I supposed we must start with a history lesson, don’t give me that look I will try to be brief. Now I am sure I do not need to explain Middle Earth nor its History to you of all creatures, I’m sure by now you will have a vast understanding of Hobbits, Elves, Men and perhaps Dwarves… if you have been so lucky, and at least a passing knowledge of the other creatures we share our home lands with however, that which I need to tell you begins before even the Elves. Now all our races have different beliefs of how our world was begun and who did what exactly, this is not something I wish to argue so before I begin let me say that this history is what I, myself, have discovered over time and the beliefs I hold to be true and let us leave it at that, shall we? 

Back in the First Age before the awakening of the Elves, even before Melkor left Arda and our histories began, a song was sung that would change fate as it was intended. This tale is as old as the Music of the Ainur and as such it is not well known, nor complete however I shall tell you what I know none the less. 

From what I have gathered when the Valar first began to sing the shaping of the world Melkor grew discontent with the way of things, his visions of Arda different than those of The One. Knowing there was little he could do alone Melkor slowly tried to influence his Brothers and Sisters of the Valar. None suspected his dissatisfaction so it wasn’t until much later that the remaining Valar realised what had been done. Knowing he’d have difficulty acting alone Melkor began to plot an idea, he knew deep down that he’d have an easier time of influencing the Male Valar as he was already closer to them than to his Sisters. Melkor knew better how their minds worked and how to sway them as they were not so different from himself. Melkor first approached Manwë, his blood brother, as they were closest of all and Melkor knew that with the King of Arda on his side then his plan was much more likely to succeed. Melkor went to his brother and proposed a change to their song, at first Manwë refused Melkor but the other would not back down. Melkor possessed an almost wicked kind of charisma and his brother did not yet have reason to doubt Melkor or suspect something was amiss. Thus being the case Manwë eventually came to agree with his blood brother and together they began to advocate Melkor’s idea. The Corruptor, as he would later be named, had his first ally but he knew well that his plan would require the combined force of the Fëanturi to be successful and so they approached their Brothers together. First Melkor and Manwë approached Námo knowing we would be more easily swayed than Irmo. Melkor knew, however, that they could not carry out his plan without the help of the Master of Dreams and he refused to back down until Irmo saw ‘reason’ at their hands. Irmo was angry at the idea of changing his song, but with the combined efforts of his brother’s logic, Manwë’s assurances and Melkor’s sweet lies Irmo was reluctantly convinced. 

Now that he had the power he needed behind him, Melkor announced his intentions to change the music to the rest of the Valar. He knew that should the other disagree with his plan they could no longer stop him but if he could manage to sway some more of his Brothers and Sisters he knew that their song would be stronger and his plan easier to execute. To his perverse pleasure the remaining Lords of Valar congratulated Melkor on his insight, however, the Queens of Valar felt something amiss and refused to lend their assistance, especially Varda for she knew something about Melkor was wrong. Seeing their spouses disapproval had and almost devastating effect on the Lords of Valar, especially Manwë, so with some quick thinking and a sinfully effective speech the most powerful of the Valar began the song with his now hesitant Brothers and together they changed the design of Arda forever. 

Now you may be thinking “What did Melkor change?” and I will tell you, it was nothing too big otherwise his Brothers would have suspected what his true intentions were. With the help of the other Lords of Valar, Melkor changed how all creatures of Arda would one day dream. Now I can hear you saying “There’s nothing wrong with my dreams!” and for the answer to that you will need to let me finish my explanation. You see, Melkor did not stop us from dreaming but his intention was to change what our dreams meant. Melkor’s plan was to give each creature of Arda visions when they slept, visions of the day to come. These were not, are not, any old visions… though how we might wish they were. No, these visions the creatures of Arda were cursed with were all of misfortune and pain to come. As though the knowledge itself was not cruelty enough, Melkor’s song instilled the asking of a question. After each vision the dreamer would be asked to make a choice, and a choice had to be made after each and every vision. The dreamer would be asked to answer “Yes” or “No”, to accept fate or deny it. Put more simply if, in the day to come, misfortune was fated to befall the dreamer then he, or she, would be asked whether or not they would accept their fate. If the dreamer answered “Yes” then within the next 24hours the misfortune they dreamt of would come to pass. If the dreamer answered “No” then the question would be asked of another. Now during the visions the dreamer will not be gifted with enough information to avoid the adversity coming their way, only enough to allow the decision to be made. 

Now comes the confusing part, for regardless of the original dreamer’s decision to either accept or reject their future pains their neighbors will also be asked a question. If the misfortune your vision shows is not your own but that of your neighbour, the questions you’d be asked would be changed ever so slightly. After a vision of your neighbour you would be asked “Will you take their pain?” and knowing not the decision of your neighbour you would be asked for your answer. If you answered “Yes” when your neighbour accepted their misfortune then the severity of the misfortune would be lessened slightly per person who would have accepted your pain for you. If you say “Yes” when your neighbour refuses their misfortune then misfortune will come to you. I admit that I have no idea what happens if more than one person agrees to take the misfortune when the original recipient say “No” as I have yet to find any evidence that said misfortune lessens except under the circumstances I’ve already explained, but it is my theory the perhaps it merely picks someone or goes to the first to answer or the most willing recipient. 

Unfortunately if no one could be found to take your neighbour’s misfortune when they’ve refused it then misfortune will return to your neighbour… thrice fold. Now before you begin huffing that you’ve never had such a dream, the song was sung by Irmo and his Brothers so that once they awoke none would be forced to remember the question, their answer or the misfortune coming to them or those around them. A small kindness for the burden forced upon the creatures of Arda. Now you would be right in thinking that the Valar are not so cruel or that this does little to help Melkor… When Melkor posed the song to his brothers he told them it would promote kindness and compassion, in sharing the burdens on pain and reveal the strong and kind of spirit above all others. This is what won the Lord of Valar to his side but Melkor’s true intent was the exact opposite. Melkor wanted the creatures of Arda, so favoured by Eru, to know fear and mistrust, to act on whims brought from selfish needs and to slowly sow a sick cruelty into the hearts of all. For Melkor knew that once the hearts of the children of Eru became open to darkness and allowed it to act within them, that he would then find purchase in their hearts and minds. This would give him the opening he needed to corrupt them and tear down the utopia Eru had designed. 

It was not long after Melkor’s song had been sung that the Queens of Valar found their misgivings confirmed and so Melkor’s true nature and desires were discovered. The Lords of Valar now knew that they’d been used and regretted that once sung the music of the Ainur became law and as such it was irreversible. It was Nienna and Yavanna that came to their Brothers and Sisters with an alternative, for though the music could not be undone perhaps it could be bent and altered to a more suitable end. With hope for redemption burning within their hearts the full power of the remaining Valar was put to work with Nienna and Irmo leading the song, hoping to lessen the suffering that was sure to be caused. This is when Irmo made it so that none would remember what they had dreamt along with a long set of rules. I do not yet know all of the provisos of their alterations but here is what I do know; working together the Valar made it so that no decision made while dreaming could have fatal consequences, that only misfortunes of fate and chance could be seen in vision and events of premeditation must be seen out as fate always intended. For example tripping or stubbing one’s toe is acceptable but changing intentional targets was not. That though there is no limit to how many visions you may receive while sleeping you must be sleeping in order to receive them; so there will be nights if you sleep late where you will not be asked questions for the decisions will have already been made. Now I do not know if this condition is of Valar making or simply a result of all else but the visions also seem to have a distance limit. For most misfortune you will only receive visions for those who sleep within a league of you, however more severe misfortune and pain has been known to reach further. Finally, though I am sure there are more conditions of which I know nothing, the Valar created a seal around this particular song. A seal that insured from the moment the music ended that no creature could tamper with nor profit from this song, basically they insured that no one including themselves and Melkor could influence the decisions of the creatures of Arda and so removed any possible use Melkor had for this song. Without the ability to take back what they had done, the Valar did what they could to amend their error and repair the rift in what Eru had intended. Having done all they could do the Valar continued to shape Arda as The One intended and from here history continued as we know it. The Elves awoke along with Men, Dwarves and many other creatures of Arda. Soon Middle Earth came to be as we know it and with it came The Hobbits. 

Now few know for sure, though many have beliefs, as to how Hobbits came to share this wondrous land we all call home. Like the Dwarves and Ent we are not of Eru’s original design but in our way we are blessed as both Aulë and Yavanna’s children and so it is my belief that perhaps we came to Arda in a much similar fashion and so it is my belief that Hobbits were created to house all that Yavanna and Aulë wished for their children as Mother and Father of our race. 

And now we reach the end of my explanation and the beginning of my tale, as a Hobbit is what I am and this is supposed to be my story. My name is Bilbo Baggins of Bag End in The Shire and by Hobbit standards I am a rather clumsy and unlucky excuse of a Hobbit. Many blame it on the Took blood of my mother’s side, but what they do not know is that I am no ordinary Hobbit. As Gandalf would say I am rather Unique because unlike every other creature of Middle Earth, Gandalf excluded somehow, I remember my nightly vision. I do not mean the sense of déjà vu that many experience, nor do I make any claims to an extra sense. I simply remember the visions I am given each night, the questions I am asked and the answer I give. I remember the misfortunes to come, what I’m shown at least, and the consequences of my responses. I remember the faces of those fated to suffer and every night I give the same answer. Yes.

Yes, I will take my misfortune and Yes, I will accept theirs if they will not. 

Though I do not think myself anything special as I am merely doing what we all do every night, I simply always answer the same and remember doing so though the knowledge is often a burden. It is with this knowledge that I have made the discoveries I have over the years for much of the information we all know, unfortunately we can only remember it while we dream. Blissfully however it seems we are not burdened with this knowledge until it is time for us to come of age, this too I saw in my first vision on my 33 birthday… though I’m sure the age differs by each race’s standards. And so my bad luck began and though it appears a minor cannot be asked the questions, I am not sure if there are other requirements for being excused from the burden, once you are of age you will dream of anyone including children and minors. 

When I first started receiving my visions a part of me was terrified and I knew that it was not something I was meant to remember, I could not speak of it to anyone for they’d all think me mad. I stopped sleeping for days on end to avoid dreaming at the same time as others but there was no escape from the haunting knowledge that the people around me, the people I cared about were going to be hurt and I could do something about it. I became ill with the fear of my visions, knowing what would happen if I said “No”, knowing I’d likely suffer if I said “Yes”. I was but a young Hobbit, I’d lost my father and I could see my mother fading before my eyes and yet the terror gripped me. That was at least until I met an old grey wizard with a habit of knowing things no one tells him. To this day I know not how Gandalf came to know about my Condition, as we refer to it, but having someone with whom I could confide and of whom I’d never dream brought me back from the brink of my illness. However I soon lost my mother and after resigning myself to do what I knew I must I became withdrawn from Hobbit society, Gandalf becoming a close friend and mentor to me. Every so often the wizard would come through to check up on me, showering disapproving glares on any who should call me “Bad-Luck-Bilbo” in his presence and often bringing me books and other artefacts to fill my self-imposed exile. Blissfully Bag End is a bit away from the main houses of Hobbiton and The Shire so it’s often only the neighbours I dream of but still… 

Many of the older, more respectable Hobbits were quite happy to avoid my Smial by a large distance, which suited me fine, fearing that my misfortune was catching… though it was the reverse that was true and it is with sad realisation I confide that to this day I can count the number of Hobbits who accept their own misfortune one hand. Though I know not if any accept another’s misfortune for it always seems to come to me alone. 

And so it was on blissfully rare day, one of no dreams, during my fiftieth year that Gandalf found me sitting outside my Smial making smoke rings with my favourite pipe.


	2. Meddling Wizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our story begins... 
> 
> A double release!  
> (mostly for my own peace of mind regarding the chapter numbering)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh my gosh! The response to the first chapter was AMAZING! Huge thankyou to everyone who commented, lefts kudos or even managed to stick it out with us! 
> 
> Now we move away from the complicated establishment and begin to introduce our supporting cast, enjoy and please let me know what you think! And please ignore the chapter numbering, can't get it to sync up properly so you're getting a double post.

Chapter 1

The day started well enough, with no indication of the events about to unfold. I woke up feeling well rested and rather cheerful for the first time in some months, no dreams had plagued me that night and so I made myself something special for breakfast. After eating my fill of some rather tasty smoked kippers and eggs, I went outside to smoke my pipe. I knew I’d need to go down to the market later but right then I wanted to enjoy my morning and so I sat in the brisk morning air and soon lost myself. Absently smoking my pipe, I stared off into the beautiful green that made up the Shire, my home for 50 years. I watched with a mixture of fondness and sadness as the other Hobbits went about their mornings, I ignored how they instinctively avoided coming near or even looking towards Bag End anymore. So it was with no small amount of surprise that I was brought from my reverie with a smoke moth in my face and a figure standing before me. 

Looking up at the large, grey figure with some surprise all I could do was offer a shocked “Good morning”

“What do you mean?” questioned Gandalf looking rather serious, “Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

“All of them at once, I suppose.” I offered a little sheepishly, I knew better than to speak thoughtlessly around the wizard. “Are you well Gandalf? I wasn’t expecting you”

“Most well Master Baggins, I find myself in the Shire seeking something.” Gandalf offered cryptically before joining me on the bench and taking out his own pipe. I offered him some of my Old Toby and together we sat in companionable silence for a few minutes; that was until a pair of young Hobbit lads found themselves before my smial. The lads were little more than faunts really but still they ceased playing with shocked expressions realising where they were. Looking from the smial to me, then to Gandalf and then finally to one another the boys stiffened and whispered to each other.

“Bad-Luck-Bilbo…” their voices were almost petrified as they scrambled away from Bag End as fast as their little legs could carry them, half way down the road though the pair of them mysteriously tripped and landed face first in the dirt. Sitting back the pair began to cry and I watched with little surprise as their mother’s appeared from nowhere and collected the boys, glaring at me the entire time. 

Sighing exasperatedly I fiddled with my pipe “You realise that only makes matters worse?” I didn’t bother looking at my mentor, I knew what kind of expression the mischievous wizard would be wearing. 

“I am sure I have no idea what you mean Bilbo my lad” Gandalf’s voice possessed just the right amount of indignation and I couldn’t help but chuckle, the old wizard was a bit protective. 

“You know exactly what I mean, but that is a discussion there is little point getting into now. You said you were in Hobbiton seeking something Gandalf?” taking another draw on my pipe I waited for Gandalf to answer, he was not one to be rushed. 

“Hmmm” was Gandalf’s only response, the wizard seemed to be deep in thought about something or the other and I knew I’d need to prod a little harder if I wished to garner any more information from him. 

“Can I help you?” I asked thinking that perhaps I’d know where to find what Gandalf was after, but doubting it. 

“That remains to be seen.” Now this caught my attention but still Gandalf did not look at me, I began to feel a sinking pressure in my stomach as I watched the scheming wizard “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

“An adventure?” I asked a little breathlessly “Now, I don’t imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner!”

The pressure in my stomach grew heavier and I knew that this conversation would not end well for me. I got up from the bench, feeling a little ill and went to my mailbox. I grabbed what was there and began to mindlessly sort through it, inside my world was spinning and I felt the need to escape. This is not happening by chance, I knew because I’d had no dreams last night, thus I knew that Gandalf was planning something for me specifically. Refusing to look at the wizard, whom I had known for years, I hurried back to my door. 

Without turning around I mumbled a “Good luck Gandalf, good morning” before reaching for the doorknob, unfortunately my hand was stayed by the words of rather vexed wizard. 

“To think that I should have lived to be ‘goodmorninged’ by Belladonna Took’s son, as if I were selling buttons at the door.”

“Beg your pardon?” I turned back to look at Gandalf, though I knew the wizard knew of my mother I’d never had any reason to suspected he’d known her and so his words puzzled me.

“You’ve changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.” His eyes shone with disappointment and I felt my heart give a painful lurch. 

“I’m sorry Gandalf, I just didn’t know what to say.”

“Well that’s decided.” He said confidently and my stomach had that strange feeling all over again, “It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.”

“Inform the who? What? No. No. No! Wait. Gandalf, I do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today. Please Gandalf, I suggest you try over the Hill or across the Water. Good morning.” And so I fled inside my smial, into the relative safety of Bag End and bolted the door. I cared for Gandalf a great deal but this talk of adventures had me most nervous, I barely managed here in the Shire with my dreams but to go traversing Middle Earth… it was too much to bear and so I leant against my door and took a deep breath. 

Hearing a curious noise, I put my ear close to the door. The noise sounded like a strange almost scratching on the door, alarmed I looked out his side window, only to find Gandalf’s eye appear in front of me. I jumped back in fright and hid behind a wall; I then looked out another window and saw Gandalf hurrying away. I felt an enormous wave of guilt hit me but I brushed it off, today was supposed to be my day off and so I had chores that needed doing, including going to the market. 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

I did my best to shake off my lingering feelings about Gandalf’s visit and instead prepared myself for my trip to the market, I knew it would not be an overly pleasant trip but I had hopes that some of the more open minded hobbits may be in attendance that day. I knew that all the hobbits within a league of Bag End, at least, would be in a rather jovial mood. Even then I could always tell when another Hobbit had dreamed the questions, even if they could not remember. On mornings after dreaming there was always a darkness, a tenseness, to those who’ve dreamed and they don’t even remember or notice it. If it’s been a rather bad night for dreams, or the misfortune coming is a particularly bad one, the dreamer will often complain of an unrestful sleep but with little clue as to why. I can always tell though, the same way I can always pick when a young Hobbit finally begins to receive the dreams after their majority. The process is not always exact and some Hobbits do not receive their dreams until several years after their majority, not so for me but others are luckier… but all Hobbits, and all creatures to my knowledge, receive the dreams eventually. 

Armed with my shopping list and a small pouch of coins I left my house, intending to apologise to Gandalf if I saw the wizard but dreading such a meeting nonetheless. As I walked from Bag End, my hands resting comfortably in the pockets of my waistcoat, I did my best to ignore the looks and stares from those around me. It wasn’t often I ventured away from Bag End, my smial was my sanctuary and other Hobbits often my purgatory as they judged me for things they did not understand. 

I walked down the hill and into the Hobbiton marketplace, around me were all kinds of hobbits talking and selling their wares and blissfully they were all too busy to pay more than minimal attention to me. I set about buying what was on my list, I decided on a rather nice fish for dinner than night and went about ordering what I’d need to restock my pantry. It had been some time since I’d been down to the marketplace and so I had much that I needed to get, as I shopped I ran into the friendly face of Mr. Worrywort. After a brief discussion about his impressive harvest of large tubers I ask after Gandalf, Mr. Worrywort has always had an impressive talent for knowing who was where, especially around the Market. While we were speaking however I had a very unfortunate run in with a basket of fabric, my cowardice in the possible face of my mentor embarrassed and shamed me. Bidding Mr. Worrywort good day, I hurried about the rest of my purchases, arranging for delivery later in the day. 

Needing to clear my head I walked to The Water and set about skipping smooth stones over the calm surface and watching the resulting ripples. My aim, it seemed, had not deteriorated with age. Stone after stone I skipped over the water, my mind calming with each fading ripple. It wasn’t until I had exhausted my supply of stones that I stopped; I sank down onto banks at the water’s edge and dipped my feet into the shallows. Now don’t get me wrong, Hobbit’s in general are not great fans of large bodies of water and I’m no exception but neither could I resist the sun warmed expanse before me. Even the most respectable Hobbit’s occasionally get their feet wet, and if I enjoyed the clear warm water rushing over my feet a bit more than other respectable Hobbits… well no one was there to see or disapprove. Closing my eyes and soaking in the sun I felt calm and at peace, for a while at least. It wasn’t long until the restfulness of the water and sun had me drifting off into a lulling sleep, and that was when I felt it. A great darkness shadowed across my mind startling me back into wakefulness, the shock of it send me reeling away from the water breathing heavily. With great stumbling steps I hurried from The Water, through Hobbiton and home to Bag End as fast as my feet could carry me. I ignored the suspicious or scornful looks as I passed because I knew what none of them had yet come to sense, something was coming. I am no seerer and I had not been asleep deep enough to feel anything more than a sense of dread and foreboding, something was coming to Hobbiton and it was bringing a great Darkness with it… and suddenly Gandalf’s visit made a lot more sense. 

 

X~X~X~X~X

 

By the time I settled down for supper I’d done a fantastic job of forcing myself to forget the earlier events of the day, though a shadow of forewarning hung with me. I unloaded my groceries and put them all in their proper homes, done a few rounds of baking and pre-cooking for tomorrow and cleaned Bag End through, which is no easy task, by the end of the day I was so exhausted I didn’t have the energy to think of the dark dreams I knew would haunt me tonight. For supper I’d prepared a lovely meal of fish and vegetables and with relish I sat down and prepared to eat, sprinkled just the right amount of salt and pepper, a light drizzle of a perfectly ripe lemon and just as I was ready to begin what I knew would be a flavoursome meal the doorbell rang. Grumbling under my breath about the rudeness of some Hobbits I walked to the door clad in my night robe; I opened my door ready to give Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, for who else would interrupt my supper, a piece of my mind only to stop short with a wordless gasp. On my doorstep was an exceptionally tall and balding person. He certainly wasn’t Lobelia, nor even a Hobbit at all, and though he was very tall indeed the unknown person at my door did not look like any Man I’d seen at Bree nor a wizard like Gandalf. It was the glimpse of Giant Axes and big heavy boots that gave me my answer… Dwarf. 

The Dwarf turned as I opened the door, my mental analysis taking mere seconds, and bowed slightly. 

“Ahh…” I managed weakly, for this was surely the first Dwarf I’d ever seen and the chap seemed very displeased about something, not to mention those axes glinted threateningly in the dim light. 

“Dwalin, at your service” he said in a thickly accented voice, though rough it wasn’t exactly unpleasant and turned out to be just the ticket to shake me from my stupor. 

With an uncomfortable groan (I don’t care what the Dwarves try to tell you I didn’t whimper!) I came to my senses and quickly tied my robe tighter, after all greeting an intimidating Dwarf was one thing… greeting an intimidating Dwarf in your nightclothes is very much another. I stood up straighter, trying to look less daunted though inside I was going through every possible reason I could think of that there would even be an intimidating Dwarf standing on my front step. 

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours…” I responded mostly out of habit than any real sense of welcoming. “D-Do we know each other?” I asked as the Dwarf suddenly began to move and entered my home without so much as a ‘by your leave…’ but before I could voice any further questions or objections the Dwarf moved in close, his face close to mine and with an almost disgusted glare gracing his already foreboding features. 

“No” I could almost hear the silent ‘are ye daft?’ but was given no further chance to ponder the Dwarf’s tone as he strode into my home and removed his cloak. “Which way, laddie? Is it down here?”

“I-is what down where?” I asked, now truly confused and thoroughly wishing my uninvited visitor would leave. 

“Supper.” He said throwing his cloak at me, his rudeness astounded me. “He said there’d be food, and lots of it.” And then we was gone, walking towards my kitchen.

I stood rooted to the spot for a moment, “H-he said? Who said” I muttered, knowing somehow I wouldn’t get an answer. Quickly I shut the door and put the cloak away, no one could accuse a Baggins of being unhospitable to a guest, invited or otherwise… besides if I could deal with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins on a regular basis I’m sure a single Dwarf would be no problem, or at least that’s what I told myself. 

I finished with my fussing and followed the path the Dwarf had taken and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, sitting at my table, in MY chair was a large, heavily tattooed, no manner having Dwarf eating MY Dinner! The dinner I’d spent hours planning, preparing and cooking with painstaking care and focus. Carefully crafting the flavours with skills only born to hobbit kind and carefully honed over years cooking with my parents. The flavours were carefully subtle but still full of punch, the fish perfectly succulent and soft, cooked to the point it would melt on your tongue but never too soft. The skin was beautifully crisp, needing no extra flavour to make it the highlight of the meal. The vegetables were no different, crisp skins with full flavour but a soft inside that made your mouth water with the smell alone. Cooking was an art form to hobbits and here was a Dwarf, Derlin? Dwarler? Shovelling it into his mouth so quickly that there was no way he could be actually tasting the food he was swallowing, it was enough to infuriate even the most polite hobbit. It almost disgusted me the way this Dwarf ate, everything was gone in the blink of an eye and then he was still asking for more. 

“Mmmm… Very good this. Any more?” He gruffed with his mouth still full, the compliment to my cooking enough to get me moving without strangling my uninvited guest. 

“What? Uh, oh, yes, yes…” I looked around and picked up a plate of my freshly baked scones “Ah…” looking between the plate and the Dwarf I pocketed a scone before offering the plate “Help yourself” I should’ve expected the speed at which he shoved them into his mouth.

Finally I’d put my foot down and decided to get some answers, in the most politely Baggins way possible. “Mmmm. It’s just that, um, I wasn’t expecting company.” Unfortunately I didn’t get a proper response because at that moment the doorbell rang, it seemed one Dwarf was not all this night had in store for me.


	3. Call to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A Big thankyou to everyone who left Comments or Kudos, they mean a lot to me! This story still has an undecided ending so I'm afraid I can't offer much detail on what's to come (Bilbo and his Dwarves have been pretty tight lipped about it) but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Chapter 3

“I’ll be all right, let me just sit quietly for a moment.” I said a little shakily from my armchair, a hot mug of tea held comfortingly within the vice of my hands as I tried to focus on my breathing. I knew the mug was growing hot, too hot to keep holding as I was, but the burn of my palms was helping keep me grounded. Part of me terrified out of my wits, another part furiously angry with Gandalf and the chaos he’d brought to my door. 

“You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long. Tell me: when did doilies and your mother’s dishes become so important to you?” Gandalf commented in that way of his, that wise and all-knowing but unthinking way.

“Since I lost her!” I hissed with tears stinging my eyes, it didn’t matter how much time passed the pain never lessened. Watching her fade slowly and knowing that for all the people I’d suffer for there was nothing I could do for the only one I’d happily die for. 

“I remember a young Hobbit who was always running off in search of Elves and the woods, who’d stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies.” The old wizard offered his voice dropping into a tone of sorrow and regret. “A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of The Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it’s out there.”

“I-I can’t just go running off into the blue! I am a Baggins, of Bag End” I spat back, a little more desperately than I would have liked. Talk of my parents always hurt, Gandalf knew that better than any… especially after he’s watched my younger self push cousin Lobelia Sackville-Baggins into thorn bush after she’d said my mother deserved to die, the day after the funeral and the morning after I’d dreamt of her losing her favourite ribbon and instead lost my favourite book. The wretch had never forgiven me and had made it her personal mission to make me miserable ever since. 

“You are also a Took.” He retorted stubbornly, arguing with a wizard was always a losing cause. “Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?” 

“Yes.” I looked up at the old family portrait with a fond smile; he’d always been one of my favourite family stories. 

“Well he could. In the battle of Green Fields, he charges the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin King’s head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time.”  
“I do believe you made that up.” I smirked, trust Gandalf.

“Well, all good stories deserve embellishment. You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back.” Gandalf had on that air of adventure, confident and sure.  
“Can you promise that I will come back?” I asked neither knowing if I wanted to know Gandalf’s answer or even if I want to come back, The Shire had become both my home and my prison. 

“No. And if you do, you will not be the same.” His voice was far too knowing, as though he knew the darkening thoughts which crossed my mind. An adventure was sure to be a wonderful thing but what would I lose of myself if I were to follow these Dwarves?

“That’s what I thought. Sorry, Gandalf, I can’t sign this. You’ve got the wrong Hobbit.” I take my tea, untouched and cooling as it was, and walked away. My fears and insecurities threatening to strangle me, and here I thought today was going to be such a grand day. As I walked the familiar halls back through my smial, heading for the familiar comfort of my bed, I heard a soft and disappointed voice follow me.

“It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best. The odds were always…” The voice of the older Dwarf faded as I walked further and further away, it held such sorrow that my heart began to throb. There was more history there than I’d be led to believe and though I ached to help them I knew that there was little I could do, for what was I but a simple and unlucky Hobbit?

Reaching the familiar darkness of my room, the one I’d inhabited all my life, I abandoned the still untouched cup of tea and sat resting my head against the cool wood of the bedframe. I knew I was disappointing Gandalf, something I’d never wanted to do, but I also knew that this condition of mine would only worsen should I leave The Shire. As I sat, fear and dread holding my heart and lungs under their spell, I could hear music drifting through the halls. It had been years since the smial had been filled with music, once it had never been quiet but filled with laughter and my mother’s voice. By most Hobbit’s standards she’d not had a pretty voice, deeper than most Hobbit lasses and louder than most Hobbit lads, she would sing without thinking and her voice always called me home. As my mother cooked she would sing even the most ridiculous songs in that beautiful voice of hers, my father sometimes joining her if he was of a mind too, and I would run home from chasing elves in the forests just to watch them dance around the living room singing and laughing in a way I’d never seen since I’d lost them. 

The songs of the Dwarves were low and sad, I could hear little at first but soon their voices resounded through my home as though there were hundreds and not merely 13. I did not try to hide the tears that ran down my face, for who was there to see them? I had never realised how much I missed the sound of people within my home. Perhaps Gandalf had brought them here not to hurt me but to remind me what I was missing; and though I’d been called a burglar, a grocer and inadequate in more ways than one, not once all night had I been called Bad Luck. 

Listening to the melodic sounds of the Dwarves I didn’t even realise I was asleep until the dreams began. The dreams can take many forms, sometimes it is like a showing of events. You see someone walking and they trip over something then the dream plays backwards and stops. There you decide does the dream play again or do you change it and take the other’s place. This is most common for me, but sometimes the dreaming changes. It doesn’t happen often and I can’t always remember when it does but sometime when something huge it going to happen I see a woman. I stand in a space of opacity, I don’t know where it is but it feels nice to be there. Surrounding me are the softest of clouds seemingly painted in the gentlest tones of greens and blues. Around me is a feeling of life and love but also of great sorrow, I stand there alone and the melancholy increases until knowing tears fall down my cheeks. In these dreams I remember everything, the answers I’ve given and the suffering I’ve lived, the answers given on my behalf always by my parents, the rules of my dreams and the reasons they exist. All of it becomes clear and I weep.

That is when she appears, tall and beautiful with eyes like stars and hair the deepest and richest or browns. She wore a dress of the deepest, warmest green and her voice was like music, she always smiled at me with such sorrow and never fails to open her arms to me. I always embrace her without thinking and in her arm I feel at home, I feel all the love of the Mother of Mothers. It is there she tells me what is coming, in her arms I shake with fear and in her arms I weep as I accept what she tells me and what will come.  
On this night, with Dwarves sleeping in my home, I dreamt of her and she warned me of what was to come.


	4. It's time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi All, I've recently found some extra chapters which I thought I'd lost so please ENJOY! 
> 
> Also I would like to thank everyone for their Kudos and comments, Especially *HobbitBraids* this one is for you!

In the morning, I woke to the oppressive silence of my empty home, my head hurt dreadfully and I could feel the tear tracks on my cheeks. The details of the night’s dreams a little fuzzy, I remembered dreaming of one of the younger Dwarves losing something, the little fuzzy one that has good manners. I dreamt of Jana Brandybuck falling into a patch of wild sunflowers, of which she is dreadfully allergic, and of course I dreamt of the Green Lady. I knew from experience it would take time to remember her words to me, time for my heart to settle with what knowledge she had gifted to me. This was always the way with my dreams of her, the heart refuses to admit what the head already knows; and strangely I once more dreamt of a darkness coming. 

Wiping my face wearily and trying to ignore the silence I left my room and walked up the hall looking for my unexpected guests but of the Dwarves I found no trace. Everything was cleaned and returned to its rightful places, all except for a single cup of camomile tea sitting next to a parchment on the table. 

“Hello?” I call moving to the table, the tea is still warm so I take a sip as I unfold what looked to be the contract. I look from the cup, thoughtfully present, and the contract, stubbornly left, and a feeling of purpose filled me. Taking another mouthful of the warm tea I run to change my clothes and grab my father’s old travel bag. Putting the bag on my unmade bed I run around the room thinking of what I’ll need; I dash to the kitchen and grab some food, mostly bread and rock cakes, vegetables and things that won’t spoil. I grab a warm sturdy blanket and some other odds& ends, a flint, my favourite pipe, a decent pouch of Old Toby and a water skin. I made sure to pack a change of clothes and a bedroll. But now with my bag mostly filled I looked around my home and my heart lurched, without thinking I moved down the hall to the room I never entered and stood at the door. With a deep breath I opened the door to my parent’s room and even after all these years it looked just as it should, perhaps a little dustier but warm and filled with life. I walked to my father’s side of the bed and picked up the chain my mother had left there the day he died, on the chain sat an old locket with a new picture inside. The locket was a Baggins family heirloom and within it was a portrait of my parents from their wedding day. With shaking fingers I picked up the chain and looped it around my neck with reverence.

“I’ll be going now” I whispered with tears in my eyes, mimicking the words I’d told them more times that I could count and I could almost hear their laughter following me as I closed the door returned to my bag. Shouldering my pack and swallowing the last of the chilled tea I swiftly signed the contract and said goodbye to my home. I left the hallway quietly and slowly, each step getting stronger and more confident. I stepped out into the street and ignored the gasp I heard from down the way. I closed the door and walked down the hill, each step faster now and I felt lighter the further I got from Bag End. Before I knew it I was running down the path, the contract held tightly in hand, jumping over fences and pumpkins. I ignored the disapproval of my neighbours, each disgruntled look only making me more certain that this decision was the right decision.

“Hey! Mr. Bilbo! Where are you off to?” Came a familiar voice from behind, Hobbitly curiosity obviously getting the better of him. 

“Can’t stop, I’m already late!” I called back, not even hesitating.

“Late for what?” Martin Proudfoot called in surprise.

“I’m going on an adventure!” I yelled loudly and felt myself break free from the shackles of The Shire, I knew which path Gandalf would take without even thinking and before I knew it I could hear the heavy plod of hooves and a general murmur of conversation. 

“Wait! Wait!” I called, out of breath as the Dwarves bring their ponies under control. I refuse to look at the smirk Gandalf was now wearing and instead went to the older Dwarf who’d spoken so sadly last night. “I signed it!”

The older Dwarf took the contract off me and inspected it with a small pocket-glass. He gave me a kind smile “Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.” A cheer went up amongst the Dwarves and I felt the tips of my ears begin to burn, though when said leader next spoke he looked less than happy. 

“Give him a pony.” Thorin Oakenshield was not a ‘happy’ sort of Dwarf, this much I already knew and somehow visions of pushing Lobelia into a thorn bush jumped to mind and I had to stifle a laugh until I registered the word ‘pony’.

“No, no, no, no that – that won’t be necessary, thank you, but I-I’m sure I can keep up on foot. I-I-I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once—WAGH!” Out of nowhere two thick Dwarvish arms grabbed me and put me unceremoniously onto a small horse. My whole body tensed, Hobbits were not meant to ride ponies but to walk on the soft, sturdy ground. I was about to argue my case again when the beast made a sound, I shut my mouth with a click and glared at it, the pony was not to be trusted. 

“Come on, Nori, pay up. Go on” Called one of the Dwarves, it was the one with the ear horn and he looked particularly pleased with himself as a jingling, clinking sack is thrown to him by the Dwarf with spiked hair… Nori apparently. Suddenly small coin sacks and purses were being thrown everywhere.

“What’s that about?” I asked Gandalf, he had a way of knowing these things.

“Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you’d turn up. Most of them bet that you wouldn’t” Well that made sense I supposed. 

“What did you think?” I was curious to know what my old mentor had thought; it didn’t surprise me when all I received was a noncommittal hum. That was until a rather large sack of coins was thrown at him. 

“My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second.” He smiled as he dropped the sack into his bag. We shared a smile right up until I sneezed, rather violently. 

“Ohh! All this horse hair, I’m having a reaction.” Images of Jana Brandybuck and wild sunflowers came to mind as I began searching for my handkerchief; unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found. This was where I made my first big mistake with Thorin Oakenshield, everything at Bag End not included. “No, no, wait, wait, stop! Stop! We have to turn around.” 

“What on earth is the matter?” Gandalf asked to a chorus of complaints from the Dwarves who begrudgingly had stopped. 

I gave Gandalf a very pointed to, hopefully he got the message but out loud I merely answered with “I forgot my handkerchief.” 

“Here! Use this” called a Dwarf. At the sound of cloth tearing I turn just in time to catch a rag being thrown at me, the hatted Dwarf seemed thoroughly impressed with himself and at my shocked expression which caused most of the others to start laughing. My ears felt like they were burning but what else was new? I often had to say stupid things to cover up my dreams, I didn’t realise at the time why I was so embarrassed to do the same before these Dwarves. 

“Move on.” Called Thorin Oakenshield from his place in from of everyone, his voice thoroughly unimpressed and his glare full of disapproval. 

“You’ll have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey’s end.” It seems that Gandalf had understood my gaze because his tone turned soft and comforting. “You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of The Shire, but home is now behind you; the world is ahead.” And that was exactly what I was afraid of.


	5. Trust must be earned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's first night with the Dwarves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKYOU for sticking with me!

The first day on the road ended appropriately badly, considering how it had started. I’d been sneezing all day, and the ‘pony’ was thoroughly amused by it. By the time Master Oakenshield finally called a halt my eyes were bloodshot and hazy, my nose was sore and running and it felt like a swarm of bees had set up a hive within my head. The Dwarves avoided me like the plague and I fell off the beast with a huff, Gandalf of course found the whole endeavour hilarious. Finally getting off that demon stead had been a dream come true, until I tried to stand from where I’d fallen. At that point I was almost tempted to get back on the beast. My legs ached something fierce, I couldn’t even get them beneath me until my third try, my back protested the abuse vehemently and add it all to my allergies and I was ready to go home. However just as I was about to give up the whole damned adventure I felt a pair of large, warm hand envelop my shoulders and guide me to what I assumed was a log. I sat down with a relieved sigh and didn’t move until I felt something cool and damp placed against my burning eyes, my hand flittered tiredly to my eyes and there I could make out a strip of cloth, not unlike the one that was now stuffed in my pack. I tried to smile with gratitude to the Dwarf who’d decided to help me but I couldn’t exactly see where to smile at, though I made a mental note to try and learn more of their names than just Thorin Oakenshield, Nori and Derlin. 

After taking a few minutes to cool my eyes, ignoring the bustle and fuss going on around me I eventually took the cloth away and feeling a bit fresher looked around what had suddenly become our camp for the night. In the space of a few minutes a fire was lit and the large redheaded Dwarf was hanging a large pot over it with the help of the hatted Dwarf. To the side of camp Nori could be seen with the small, nicely mannered fuzzy Dwarf and the well-groomed, if fussy Dwarf; together they were taking the last of the ponies away from camp to graze. Derlin, Thorin Oakenshield, Derlin’s kindly older brother and Gandalf were at the other end of camp pouring over maps and by the look of things already in a heated argument. The Dwarf with the axe in his head sat with his back to a tree whittling away at a small block of wood, I found this action surprising but endearing. The Dwarf with the hearing impediment seemed to have gone off with the other redheaded Dwarf and if Master Oakenshield’s earlier yelling had been anything to go by they had first watch. That only left the two young Dwarfs, but I wasn’t too concerned about their location though perhaps I should have been. 

The hatted Dwarf was the first to notice me looking around and he gave me a brilliant smile, feeling cheered up slightly I got unsteadily to my feet and began to hobble over. If nothing else I could always help with the cooking, no one could say a Hobbit was a bad cook or wouldn’t pull their own weight! The hatted dwarf gave me an even bigger smile as I got closer but before I could even reach him and find out his name I was intercepted by two grinning Dwarfs and I felt a sinking in my stomach. 

“Ah, Mr. Boggins! So glad you’re feeling better” Said the brunette, seeming to get my name wrong on purpose. 

“Yes, very glad… hope old Myrtle wasn’t too rough on you.” Said the other, apparently my pony’s name was Myrtle… good to know. 

“Ah, Fine thank you” I responded sceptically, years of self-inflicted exile making me very suspicious and generally bad with people. 

“Good! That’s great news considering…” Said the blonde, trailing off ominously

“Yes. It doesn’t seem to be fair but, suppose there’s no choice!” Finished the other, I was getting very sick of this very quickly. 

“What is it?” I asked, crossing my arms and putting on my best ‘cross Hobbit’ face. 

“Weeelllll…” They said together, “Everyone’s got to take a turn watching the ponies” said one 

“Make sure they don’t escape” offered the other 

“Exactly, but everyone else has already had a turn, so really it’s not very fair for them to have two” 

“Not fair at all”

“When you’re new and haven’t even had one yet” 

“Exactly! So it’s only fair…” 

“Only fair”

“That you take watch over the ponies tonight… it’s your turn after all…”

“But don’t worry; you don’t have to do much” 

“No it’s an absolute breeze.” 

“You just need to watch them while they graze, make sure nothing happens to them…”

“And that they don’t run off”

“All night…” 

“Make sure you don’t fall asleep though, they’re nasty when no one’s looking” 

“Oh dreadful beasts, that’s why we take turns…” 

“Yes, they bite and try to trample you if they think you’re not watching… especially Myrtle she’s terrible” 

“An absolute nightmare…” 

“Yes but you’ll be fine” 

“Yes, perfectly! Now when Ori, Nori and Dori come back it’ll be your turn.” 

“Just go back the way they went and you’ll find them, Simple!”

“Yes Simple!” And then they were gone… leaving me with a splitting headache and pony duty apparently. 

Shaking my head I walked up to the fire and the Dwarves that stood there laughing, I turned to the hatted Dwarf and smiled “Would you like some help?” I said, indicating the large pot he was stirring. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, you cooked last night” he said with a wink, clearly referring to the decimation of my pantry.

“Ah, well then thankyou…” I ended lamely, realising I couldn’t just say Mr. Dwarf or Master Amusing Hat.

“Bofur, at your service” he answered for me, obviously seeing my struggle. “Don’t worry none Master Baggins, you’ll get them all eventually” He offered with a saucy wink and the rotund Dwarf beside him chuckled. 

“Bilbo, please. Hobbits are generally very good with names, having such large families as we do.” I smiled and chatted with the pair of astounded dwarves, neither of which had known that having more than 6 siblings was quite common in Hobbit society. I in turn found out that Bofur and Bombur were brothers and Bifur, the Dwarf with the head injury, was their cousin and though he had difficulty communicating he was a very kindly Dwarf. Just as I was beginning to feel comfortable and welcomed by the two Dwarves I saw the three, Nori, Dori and Ori, return. Though which was which between Ori and Dori was still a mystery to me, regardless I bid my goodbyes to Bofur and Bombur and scooped up my pack. I followed the path the three Dwarves had returned from and eventually found my way to the ponies; I glared at them as I settled down for what was bound to be a boring night. 

Hours passed and nothing much happened except for Myrtle and I reaching an understanding. Luckily I’d brought my pack because I’d not thought to wait around for dinner and no one apparently had thought to bring any. Thankfully I had the food I’d brought from Bag End and tucked in while I tried to pass the time. However once I started into a particularly juicy carrot Myrtle the Demon Pony turned up try to snuffle it from my hand, with a sigh I broke the carrot in half and gave a part to the pony. With the happiest noise I’d heard all day the carrot was gone, next thing I knew I had a horse-ish companion and so I made my peace with Myrtle even as I felt the allergies flare up again. Unfortunately for me though ponies are warm creatures and it wasn’t long before I fell unknowingly asleep despite the sneezing and burning eyes. Only to dream of Bofur catching and tearing his beloved hat on a passing branch, though that night I didn’t begrudge my answer for the Dwarf had been kind to me and that was more than could be said for others.

X~X~X~X~X

Surprisingly it was Myrtle that awoke me the following morning, I startled awake and quickly began to count the ponies. I breathed a sigh of relief that they were all there and so I watched the sunrise with my four legged companion, sneaking us both apples from my pack. With the passing of the day and a new dream dreamt the allergies had settled to what they normally would have been, which wasn’t much more than an itchy nose and the occasional sneeze. It wasn’t until a frowning Bofur came through the path with two steaming bowls that I even knew something was wrong. The friendly Dwarf came to sit beside me, sending Myrtle a wink when she raised her head and gifting me with a bowl of porridge and a sad smile. 

“Didn’t see you last night Bilbo, or this morning, everything alright lad?” At his words I stopped eating the porridge, and looked at him. 

“Everything’s fine, why wouldn’t it be?” Something was buzzing at the back of my mind, a feeling of foreboding. 

“Oh, just that it’s usually safer and more comfortable to sleep by the fire. I know some of the gents snore to high heavens but you get used to it. That’s alright, I’ll leave you be then” Bofur went to get up but I put my hand on his arm, I’m sure that he could see the confusion on my face because he sat back down without a word. 

“I wasn’t supposed to be comfortable or meant to get any sleep. It was my turn to watch the ponies last night.” As if to emphasise the point a yawn caught me unawares at just that moment.

Understanding dawned on the hatted dwarfs face, followed by even more confusion. 

“Uh, Bilbo, you didn’t have a watch last night… only the pair on watch need to look in on the ponies and we change watch every few hours. Last night was Oin and Gloin, then Fili and Kili and now me and Bifur that’s how I knew you were here.” Now was my turn to be even more confused. 

“The young lads, the blonde and brunette ones that finish each other sentences… They told me it was my turn to watch the ponies, that it was only fair and that I couldn’t fall asleep…” A look crossed the usually happy Dwarf’s face and I started to realise what had felt so wrong last night. 

“Aye, that would be Fili and Kili. Now you shouldn’t listen to a word those lads said, nothing but mischief the pair of them! Kili is the brunette, Fili the blond, by Dwarf standard they’re still considered very young so please don’t be too cross at them. Eat your breakfast and stick with me, I’ll show you the ropes and keep those pranksters at bay.” Bofur gave me an encouraging smile and I felt myself return it. I didn’t feel angry at the young Dwarves for their prank, but perhaps there was room to get even… 

I sat and ate with Bofur and before I knew it we were talking and laughing about silly little things. I decided as I sat there that if this was what it felt like to have a friend, it was a very grand thing indeed.

It wasn’t until hours later, when camp was packed up and we were on the move again that I saw the mischievous Dwarves for more than a few seconds, and they didn’t give up their chance to rub in their win. 

“You look tired Mr. Boggins!” Called Fili from where he sat on his own pony following behind Gandalf and I. 

“Must be hard sleeping outside when you’re not used to it, gotta watch out for terrible beasts” called Kili with a snicker, I’d already decided to ignore the pair. I’d been through worse but then they bit off more than they could chew.

“Though skipping dinner was real Bad Luck Mr. Boggins” offered Fili sympathetically 

“Real Bad Luck” Agreed Kili, until a sudden breeze picked up and caused branch to fall successfully hitting both Dwarves simultaneously. The surrounding Dwarves started laughing hysterically and I shot Gandalf a conspiratorial smile before joining in the laughter, which only got worse when a low hanging branch ripped Bofur’s hat from his head and straight into my hands. I stopped laughing and held the hat in my hands as though I had never seen anything like it before, Gandalf watched me as I turned the fabric over not even hearing Bofur whine over his loss. In the fabric of the hat was a tiny little tear and I felt a burning behind my eyes as I looked at it. I couldn’t help but start laughing as I encouraged Myrtle to catch up with Bofur, and with a lightness I hadn’t felt in years I returned to him his hat. 

Perhaps adventures with Dwarves weren’t so bad after all, I thought to myself.


	6. Learning curve

I took it all back, I hated Adventures! And the Dwarves weren’t helping matters either. We’d been travelling together for a few weeks now and slowly I was learning more about the other Dwarves in the group. Most pointedly that they were smelly, crude and a bunch of whingers! As it was on this day we were riding through a muddy forest and it was raining. Being a Hobbit I myself don’t mind the rain, though being stuck in it for hours was enough to get anyone down. However being a Hobbit I also knew what the rain meant to the forest and so could look past my own present discomfort, also it was raining on everyone and I wasn’t singled out for a change. Unfortunately the company of Thorin Oakenshield was used to dryer conditions and had set about complaining about the weather until even I was in a rather dismal disposition myself, and though my allergies to Myrtle had finally started to settle down the smell of wet pony was decidedly unpleasant. 

“Here, Mr. Gandalf, can’t you do something about this deluge?” Called Dori, he was that one who’d left me the cup of tea at Bag End. Once I’d found out I’d thanked him profusely and the poor Dwarf had turned pink. He was also brother to Nori and Ori, the fuzzy well-mannered one. 

“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.” Gandalf replied rather irritably, though truthfully he’d been asked this question at list half a dozen times already.

“Are there any?” I piped in, trying desperately to fish for a more cheery topic.

“What?” Gandalf snapped, seemed he wasn’t quite over his own bad mood.

“Other wizards?” I offered, knowing Gandalf would enjoy the chance to talk about something other than the weather for a time. 

“There are five of us.” He began, his tone contemplative instead of irritable now “The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards; you know, I’ve quite forgotten their names.” Of that I doubted but decided not to pursue the subject.

“And who is the fifth?” I prompted. 

“Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown.” Something changed in Gandalf’s voice, sad yet humorous. As if remembering something funny about someone he’d lost.

“Is he a great Wizard or is he...more like you?” I finished lamely, I thought Gandalf was indeed a fine wizard but… well he was just so Gandalf! I tried to ignore the insulted look he shot me.

“I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way. He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world.” After that Gandalf refused to discuss the matter anymore and so with a shrug I dropped my pony back to speak with Ori, the young Dwarf and I sharing a common interest in knitting. 

Through my observations over the last week I’d begun to notice things around the company. First was that the Dwarves held very closely to their family groups, especially the Ri brothers. Out of the entire company I’d learnt that Ori was the youngest, followed closely by Kili and then Fili; blissfully it seemed that none of the young Dwarves dreamt yet. So far I’d dreamt of almost every member of the company, except Gandalf of course, and with the exception of the three young Dwarves not once had I received another’s misfortune. I still received my own readily enough, and offered for all the others but it seemed that these Dwarves were made of stern stuff. 

Now I’m not saying that the Hobbits back home where weak or selfish, though some definitely were, and the Dwarves were none of that. What I’m saying is that though Hobbit’s are hardy people generally they are simple folk that prefer to live simply. If they don’t have to do something, or suffer something they won’t, it is honestly that simple. However if faced with the option of suffering themselves or seeing a child suffer every Hobbit in existence would jump at the chance to change places. We Hobbits are not cruel, it’s simply that we prefer a comfortable life if given the option. 

Though even after a week I had no dreamt of Thorin Oakenshield, it was strange for me to realise that I did not dream of the Dwarf in a similar way I did not dream of Gandalf, though he was clearly past his majority. Yet the more time I spent near these Dwarves the more I dreamt of a deep, dark nothingness. Some nights it felt as though there was something heavy and sickening coming for me, other nights it felt like something was missing. It felt like drowning in the darkest of waters, you knew the surface was there somewhere but no matter how hard you swam or in what direction you could never reach the surface. That heavy feeling laced all my dreams, the good and the bad, but never once did it get revealed to me. 

I found myself drawn more and more to the only Dwarf I couldn’t dream of and he, in turn, grew more and more annoyed with me. The Dwarven leader of our party seemed to openly despise me, he glared at me whenever I happened to find myself in his line of sight and he seemed to cling to almost childlike ways of avoiding me. Thorin Oakenshield clearly didn’t trust me, and that hurt me in ways I hadn’t expected but on the plus side his mischievous nephews seemed to have stopped pulling pranks on me… for now. 

X~X~X~X~X

It was later that day that I learnt one of my most valuable lessons about Dwarves, they are incorrigible gossips! Though more subtle than Hobbits information travels in silence amongst the Dwarven population without anyone knowing, not until a certain grumpy Dwarf decided to mention it of course… 

It was as we were getting ready to stop for the night, we found what looked like an old farm house. The house was in absolute ruins, not a sign of life, and it felt like there was something wrong. I was about to voice my opinion to Bofur when I heard the loud, husky… firm not husky, because it’s just a voice after all… voice of Thorin Oakenshield “We’ll camp here for the night.” He said before turning and with a pointed look and a disapproving tone added “Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them.” The ‘all night’ didn’t need to be said to be heard. 

The boys jumped in their saddles and looked stricken at the older Dwarf’s words, around them the other Dwarves snickered to themselves and Bofur nudged me with his elbow while I tried to figure out what had just happened. Trying hard not to think about how pleasant I found Thorin Oakenshield’s voice, even if I didn’t care much for the Dwarf attached to it. 

“A farmer and his family used to live here.” Gandalf offered, ignoring the goings on of the company. As the company promptly ignored the opinions of their resident wizard. 

“Oin, Gloin.” Called their leader, who most certainly does Not have a lovely voice…

“Aye?” came the weary reply from Gloin, it seemed he was expecting to have to watch Fili and Kili watch the ponies. 

“Get a fire going” He was told instead and the relief of the gruff Dwarf was almost tangible and the surrounding Dwarfs stifled their humour, all except Oin who clearly hadn’t heard a word because his ear trumpet was missing and he was staring at his brother and Fili and Kili who were sulking like tweens. 

“Right you are.” Gloin turned to his brother and with some hand movements I couldn’t understand, the pair got to work. 

“I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley.” Gandalf suggested, the glare he settled on the destroyed home more than a little unnerving.

“I have told you already, I will not go near that place.” Snapped Master Oakenshield

“Why not? The elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice.” Gandalf reasoned, I felt my mind wander briefly to the temptations he offered. 

“I do not need their advice.” Argued the Dwarf, who clearly only cared about his own comfort!

“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us.” Gandalf seemed to be losing his cool composure, just a little. 

“Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father.” Point 1 to Oakenshield.

“You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past.” Point 2 to Gandalf.

“I did not know that they were yours to keep.” And a blow to the gut from Oakenshield, but what’s this? The Wizard is leaving the field?! 

“Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?” I called, more than a little nervous.

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense.” He shot back without looking at me.

“Who’s that?” I asked, it was doubtless a silly question but I thought perhaps I’d get to see Elves after all. 

“Myself, Mr. Baggins! I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.” …oh, never mind. 

“Come on, Bombur, we’re hungry.”

“Is he coming back?” I asked Derlin’s brother, I was not filled with confidence by the look he gave me. 

Suddenly I was having flashes of the hazy dreams from the previous night, nothing certain which in itself was unusual but flickers of fear and pain. Something bad was coming, something that would affect them all without prejudice. I felt a weight settle around my shoulders as I began to help set up camp, I wished Gandalf hadn’t left.


	7. Opinions Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change in perspective can make all the difference
> 
> AKA: Adorable sulky Dwarf time!

“Stupid Hobbit can’t take a joke!” Kili groused, kicked an unsuspecting rock into an even more unsuspecting tree. The resulting ‘Thunk’ was extremely satisfying. 

“Oh give it a rest Kee,” Fili groaned, flouncing onto a fallen log “We pranked the Hobbit and Uncle found out, at least he’s only making us watch the ponies this time” 

“I knooooooooow but it’s still not faaaaaiiiiiiiir” he whined dramatically flouncing beside his brother, “Besides, it was all your idea anyway” Fili promptly pushed Kili over.

“My Idea? It was most certainly Your idea! I just got dragged into it.” Fili gave his best attempt at the ‘Uncle Thorin Glare’ but it only resulted in his brother throwing a bunch of leaves into his hair and calling him an Elf Maid before he pounced on Kili and the pair started grappling in the foliage. 

It wasn’t until they heard a strangled “neeeigh” that the brothers stopped and did a count of the ponies, turned out two were missing. That just happened to be the same moment a certain clueless Hobbit came to hand them the dinner they no longer wanted. 

“What’s the matter?” asked the Halfling 

“We’re supposed to be looking out for the ponies.” Kili forgot to sound angry about that fact.

“Only we’ve encountered a slight problem.” Fili seemed to have forgotten too.

“We had sixteen.” 

“Now there’s fourteen.” Finished Fili.

Together they all look at the ponies, confused to where the missing pair could have gone “Daisy and Bungo are missing.” Kili realised, inwardly cringing that of all the ponies to lose they lost their uncle’s. 

“Well, that’s not good. That is not good at all. Shouldn’t we tell Thorin?” 

‘Stupid Hobbit was going to get us in trouble again!’ thought Kili as he shook his head.

“Uhh, no. Let’s not worry him. As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it.” Schmoozed the golden haired, silver tongued brother. 

‘Nice work Fee!’ Kili sent out with his brother telepathy. 

The Hobbit looked uncertain, eyes catching on some trees recently uprooted and laying on the ground. “Well, uh...look, some--something big uprooted these trees.”

“That was our thinking.” Kili offered, not that the pair had really put a lot of thought into it before Mr. Baggins got there.

“Something very big, and possibly quite dangerous.” As Kili rolled his eyes Fili managed to distract the Hobbit.

“Hey! There’s a light. Over here! Stay down.”

Quietly the three ran through the forest toward the light Fili had seen, and together they hid behind a log. If Fili and Kili were quiet then the Hobbit was silence itself, the pair felt a begrudging respect bud at that. They risked a look over the log toward the light, a campfire no doubt, and were hit by the sounds of harsh laughter. 

“What is it?” Asked the Hobbit, now not so silent. 

“Trolls.” Kili spat, the smell, if nothing else, gave them away. 

Together Fili and Kili ran toward the fire, leaving the Hobbit to follow. As they heard the sound of lumbering steps the brother’s ducked into the underbrush, leaving the Hobbit to find his own hiding space.

“He’s got Myrtle and Minty! I think they’re going to eat them, we have to do something.” The Hobbit was almost hysterical, this caused the brothers to sigh and mutter about ‘poor gentle folk’. 

“Yes; you should. Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you’re so small,” Kili begins, he knows that he shouldn’t tease but a part of him was still angry at this Hobbit for getting him in trouble with his Uncle. It’s not right that Uncle Thorin believed his word and didn’t even ask Kili or Fili about what happened… it was beside the point that they had no excuse as to why they’d pranked the Hobbit but he was sure they could have thought of something!

“N--n--no--” Stuttered the Halfling.

“They’ll never see you.” Kili coerced. Showing that a silver tongue was a family trait.

“No, no, no...”

“It’s perfectly safe! We’ll be right behind you.” he explained, though with no actual intention behind it… let the Hobbit get a scare. 

“If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl.” Fili offered, joining in. 

Together they push Bilbo toward the fire and disappear, they start counting to ten waiting to jump back up and pull the Hobbit back to them. 

“Twice like a barn owl, twice like a brown--once like a brown? Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asked only to realise they were gone, so far so good. Unfortunately before they got a chance to grab the Hobbit back he’d already stumbled too close to the Trolls. Cursing beneath his breath Kili looked at Fili and together they spoke without words. 

‘You stay here and watch the Halfling, I’ll get Uncle Thorin’ Fili said with a nod of his head in the direction of the Hobbit, and a roll of his eyes. 

‘If I have to, be swift and be safe!’ Kili replied with a grimace, a nod and a flick back to camp. As silently as a dwarf could Fili was gone and Kili was sneaking forward. 

From there things quickly went downhill but by the time dawn saved the company of Thorin Oakenshield more than one Dwarrow was reassessing their opinion of the little Hobbit who saved their lives and asked for nothing in return, not even acknowledgement of his actions from those he protected. This baffled many of the company, none realising as Gandalf did that this was Bilbo’s way and that the little Hobbit did not think to ask for thanks as most never knew of his actions in the first place.


	8. Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the last one being so short (it was supposed to be longer but Fili, Kili and the Trolls were not playing nice so I skipped it....) you're getting a big post because I secretly delay posting chapters because I'm not sure if I like them or not soooooo technically I am currently writing chapter 20 as you get chapter 8.... I know, I'm mean but I'm giving you extra because I love you!

I must say that I never expected adventures to be so exhausting! Though at least it seemed like the Dwarves were treating me with some kind of begrudging tolerance instead of the outright dislike from the beginning, and all things considered I hadn’t had as many dreams on this journey.   
Admittedly that was because I wasn’t sleeping much on this journey but when I did I became aware of new information in my dreams. To start with it has been made clear to me that the 3 youngest Dwarves, though older than me by years, had not yet started their dreaming. Also it seemed that Dwarves held their honour and responsibilities heavily, it was very rare I took the misfortune of one of the Dwarves who’d reached their majority and even then is was much less severe than it should have been. Above all however I had become aware that none of my dreams to date had featured our leader, Thorin Oakenshield. This confused me and I found myself studying the brooding King more often than I’d care to admit, I had never been in such close proximity to someone I had not dreamed of for so long and it confused me greatly. 

I kept my curiosity to myself, after all who would understand aside from Gandalf? It was useless speculating when I didn’t even know what I was speculating. Though our next stop gave me little time to further my discovery into the oddity that was Thorin Oakenshield, as after a few sleepless days of running and fighting we found ourselves in Rivendell. 

Rivendell was everything I expected it to be and more, it was beautiful, mystical and everything about it called to my very soul. The earth and the plants here seemed to sing with peace and joy, it was not something I could explain and I could tell the Dwarves didn’t feel what I felt but it was like the forest chose to be here. Normally people find a place of comfort, build and settle there. Make a home, a life and eventually a community but I knew that was not what had happened here. The forest had followed the elves, the earth and plants grew in hopes to please them. This was not something I had felt before but Hobbits are naturally more attune to the Earth and so I knew in every fibre of my being and every hair on my feet that this was truth. 

As expected the Dwarves reacted with hostility when the Elves welcomed us, but it wasn’t long before we were fed and settled for the night. Though I was exhausted I could not sleep immediately, not with the way the elves kept avoiding me and Lord Elrond kept staring. Elves could be incredibly unnerving when they wanted to be, and it seemed the Lord of the Last Homely Home had decided I was an oddity myself, which I was but there was no way he should know that, right?

Despite the strange behaviour of the Elves I enjoyed our stay in Rivendell, it was a nice break from the harshness of travel and I found that while under the protection of the Elves I did not dream so much. I still do not know if it was some magic of the Elves or simply that there was no misfortune to be had while we were there but I took the break gladly and slept easily for the first time in many years. It was strange how a sense of peace invaded the company. They came with hostility and hatred but as the days passed I watched Fili and Kili make friends with Elrond’s own sons, Elladan and Elrohir, while Ori seemed to take comfort alone in the vast library of the Elves. It was refreshing to see the Lads so carefree after what we’d been through, the colour slowly returned to their skin and light to their eyes. However, there was nothing that could be done for the older Dwarves who looked on in disapproval, though thankfully they kept their thoughts to themselves… mostly. 

It was on the fifth night at Rivendell I had my first dream. I dreamt of a boy, he looked human but within the dream I knew that it was not quite so. If he were human he would have been perhaps 5 or 6 but something told me that he was much older than that. I saw the boy sitting by the river; he was so small and so sad. His eyes shining with unshed tears as he looked into the still water, grief building inside him. I felt a pull to the boy and sat down beside him within the dream, a kindred grief filled me as I recalled the passing of my own parents. I wanted to reach out to the boy and hold him but had learnt from experience that in this dream I would not be able to touch him so I watched. Watched as the boy slowly began to cry himself to sleep, that was when the unimaginable happened. Is the child started to drift off he shifted his weight ever so slightly causing the pebbled beneath him to slide and give way. I reached out uselessly to pull the boy back but the water has already taken him, though calm on the surface the current beneath was fierce. I watched in horror as the boys eyes opened in terror and he was pulled under, water filling his lungs as he clawed for the surface and slowly sank down. As I watched on, helpless to do anything more in the dream, everything stopped and faded to black. Out of the darkness a familiar face formed, followed by a cloaked figure and again she returned. Her hair fell now in chocolate curls, her usually smiling face was morose and tear stained. It hurt me to see her like this and when she spoke it broke my heart. 

‘The boy is dying, Bilbo Baggins’ her lips did not move but her voice filled my head and heart, just as it always did. ‘I am not supposed to interfere when it may cost a life but there are plans for this child. It is not his time.’

Visions began to fill the darkness of a man standing tall and strong, leading others into glorious battle, peace brought by sword and shield, alliances forged in blood and a beautiful Elven Maiden holding an equally breathtaking child. She was right, as she always was, this boy had to be saved. 

‘What say you Bilbo Baggins? None would judge you, as the decision has always been yours to make.’ 

“I...” my mouth moved but words were lost to me, I knew what I needed to say but fear clogged my throat and I tried to reach out to her but she turned away. 

‘As you wish, but know this… no other will be asked tonight, you suffer the consequences of your choice alone my child. I hope you made the right decision’

As I watched she faded away, I turned to the boy frozen in the water and watched his form reanimate, only this time his face expressed something closer to anger or hatred. The boy reached out of the water and grabbed me, pulling me in. I felt the water welling within my lungs in moments and I gasped for air, unable to find relief. This had never happened before, I fought against him but for all he could touch me I was unable to do the same. Everything faded and I clawed at my throat unable to breathe until water was spilling from my mouth. I knew I was dying within the dream, murder by drowning was not how I’d planned to die.

I woke with a start, coughing and heaving for breath. Sweat dripped down my back and face, I still felt as though water filled my lungs. I ran to the water closet and was instantly sick, though it had been only a dream I had no doubt that I easily could have died where I slept. As I sat on the cool tiled floor my blood turned cold, I may not have died in the dream but there was every chance I still would before this day was done. I never got to voice my answer properly, in the haze of wakefulness I’m not even sure what my answer would have been anymore. I got shakily to my feet, washed my face and changed my clothes; I would not be sleeping again tonight. As I walked I passed the library, lights still shone from its depths and I decided to escape within one of the ancient tomes within. I slipped inside and walked the isles searching for something to peruse, eventually I found a book on maps and took it with me. I walked to the empty seats by the hearth only to find them not so empty. Sitting before the fire, a thick dusty book on his lap sat Thorin Oakenshield in all his majestic glory. With a tiny ‘eep’ I dropped my own text and startled the Dwarf, who of course reached for his sword. 

“Ah, burglar… I did not hear you come in” he grumped sheathing his blade and returning to his book. 

“I, ahh, didn’t know anyone was in here. Couldn’t sleep?” I picked up my book and settled into one of the chairs, trying to ignore how he watched my every move. 

“No, though I could ask you the same” I opened my book and tried not to shiver, I was very aware that we were very alone having the longest conversation since we had met. 

“Bad dream is all, what are you reading?” I asked, ignoring the perfectly raised eyebrow as I flicked through the pages. 

“Not a clue, I neither speak nor read Elvish; though by the illustrations I expect it is some kind of children’s book.” He showed a beautiful illustration of Elven children playing in a field. 

“Oh, I can read a little Sindarin. I could try to translate it if you like?” The words were out before I could think, I had always enjoyed reading books and occasionally a book in Sindarin crossed my path so over the years I’d taught myself to read and speak some of the tongue… though my accent is still terrible. 

Silently the Dwarf passed the book to me and with crimson cheeks and ears I began to translate the story of devious man who stole Elven children by hypnotising them with music played from a pan flute. The man used his music to steal the children and spirit them away to a place their parents would never find them, all because of an alliance gone wrong. There was no happily ever after to this tale, it was grim and full of sorrow. By the end I was dashing tears from my eyes and when I looked up my audience of a single Dwarf King had become a small army of murderous Dwarven warriors. I tried not to jump or blush or squeak at the sudden additions, I had been so enthralled by the story I had not noticed the others joining us. I saw tears staining the cheeks on many a Dwarf and others refused to look at me; I closed the book softly and stood to put it away. I almost missed the tiny little whine that came from somewhere within the hoard of bodies. 

“But what about the children?” Sniffled Ori, cuddled closely into Dori’s side as he wiped his tears with his mittens. It occurred to me then that despite the overwhelming dislike and distrust the Dwarves have for all Elves, the love they held for all children far outweighed it. I looked to the window and saw that time was carrying on without us, it was well passed time for breakfast and almost second breakfast too so I put the books away and shuffled the younger Dwarves allow with the promise of food.


	9. Waterlogged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo made a decision and now there are consequences... Also have some lovely, if panicked, Elves!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dropping the POV for a little bit, it’s not my normal writing style so be prepared for some possibly longer/more frequent chapters! And some chaotic character jumping.
> 
> Please comment, it gives me smiles and inspiration when you do! P.S. Thorin is a stubborn ass-hat and won't let me write more chapters because he is sulking... which is why he hasn't shown up much yet... YET!!!

Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, member of the white council and son of Eärendil and Elwing… great-grandson of Lúthien, was riding through the forests away from his home faster than he ever had before. The wind wiping at his robes carelessly, his usually perfect hair flared out behind him as green rushed by him. His sons on either side of him, the horse beneath him straining for breath, he raced as though Sauron himself chased the Elven Lord. Fear and dread gripped his heart as images continued to flash though his mind of a fate he must avert. His destination was clear and he could smell it in the air already, the Ford of Bruinen was just ahead. The Ford would hold great history in years to come, this he knew in his bones but this piece of history he could deny it. The water would not take another life from him, not this day and not this life. 

In moments their party burst from the tree line onto the slick pebbles of the beach, his stead reared at the small body just before them. An unmoving body that Elrond knew instantly, he was about to sweep from his horse when a tiny little hand reached up to scrub large blue eyes and stifle a yawn. The lad was perfectly dry, alive and seemingly contented despite his nap had been disturbed. His softly curled locks of brown hair were sleep tussled and his eyes seemed gritty with tears, the boy had obviously cried himself to sleep on the banks of the Ford of Bruinen. Elrond relaxed just slightly as his son, Elladan, swept from his mount and scooped the lad into his arms and held him close. Faint protests could be heard as Estel began to squirm, the child was nearing his twenty sixth year and by human reckoning was an adult. By every other being with common sense it was clear he was a child in every way, including his insistence he was too old to be mothered so. Estel eventually settled within Elladans arms, a large pout gracing his features, when it became clear that his heart brother would not release him until he and his twin were satisfied of the boy’s wellbeing. Estel grumbled for the sake of appearances but nuzzled ever so subtly into the embrace, clearly hurting more than he had shown regarding his true father’s death. No doubt the reason the boy had wandered so far unaccompanied. 

Elrond breathed a sigh of relief at the boy’s safety but confusion continued to pester him, his visions had shown the boy pulled under the stirring waters of the Ford, struggling against the under currents and clearly drowning but no such thing had happened to the youngster now tucked safely in Elrohir’s arms upon his horse. Elladan had reluctantly released the child to swing up onto his own steed only for his brother to refuse to give the child back. This child was safe, dry and alive. Nothing could have been further from the vision Elrond had seen and yet he knew he was not mistaken. Not only had he seen it but he still felt the treacherous pull and call of the water, giggling and begging for the life of the child. Elrond did not beget his sons their possessive tendencies toward Estel, he was close to snatching the boy and confirming for himself the lad’s continued health. He had told them of his visions as they began and without question they rode with him to Estel’s aid, fear fuelling their mounts only to find him unharmed and safe. Elrond’s sons looked at him with mirrored raised brows of confusion, he shook his head in dismissal. What answers could he give his children when he himself could not answer them? 

As they rode a much smoother ride home the boy found his way to Elrond’s own lap and promptly fell back to sleep. Knowing the boy was safe Elrond mulled over the possibilities and implications of finding the lad unharmed. At least he did until he walked back into his city and saw chaos, Lindir was waiting for their party with sorrow in his eyes as two of his medical staff raced up the stairs to the guest room, his breath caught a moment as he looked to his friend and right hand, then to the Dwarrow beside him… anxious and dripping wet. 

“It’s the Hobbit, My Lord…” Lindir began

Two perfectly arched brows rose in unison and he could hear the stunned gasps of his sons behind him, what disaster had befallen in his brief absence? 

X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X

Bilbo did not like water, he liked it even less since he’d dreamt of being drowned in it but as a rule Hobbits and water did not mix. Sure he liked a soak in a nice warm tub as much as the next Hobbit but as a rule Hobbits tend to sink in large bodies of water. So when Fili and Kili dragged Bilbo to the lake to go fishing the Hobbit dug his big hairy feet into the ground and refused. It was this point that each brother grabbed an arm, lifted him off said feet and carried him along with them anyway. Bilbo tried not to think of his dream. He knew what would happen, would happen and that there was nothing he could do about it... whatever ‘it’ ended up being. Sulkily the Hobbit sat by the water as the Dwarves played around, eventually they had forgotten about their commandeered companion and so the Hobbit slunk silently off. He followed the path of the lake, watching the fish and simply breathing. He knew he should high tail it as far away from the water as possible but something about the serenity of it all called to him, begged him closer. 

Bilbo had finally started to relax when the inevitable happened; a part of the river bank broke away under his feet and sent Bilbo tumbling into the water. Instantly his arms began to windmill and flail about desperately, for all his forewarning Bilbo didn’t want to die! He kicked his big Hobbit feet but only seemed to sink further, he tried to call out but water filled his mouth and lungs. Down… down… down… he sank until all he could see was blue, his hair floating around him like a copper halo. His lungs burnt, his limbs froze and suddenly he was so very tired. Bilbo closed his eyes and his body stopped resisting the aching embrace of the water. As he lost consciousness he felt the firm arms of death surround him and then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: You’d get a longer chapter if the characters would stop sulking and play nice… I really didn’t mean to kill Bilbo… it just kinda happened that way!)


	10. Soggy Hobbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little update to put your minds at ease and to thank all you wonderful people who commented of left Kudos!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little update to put your minds at ease and to thank all you wonderful people who commented of left Kudos!

Thorin Oakenshield had first been alerted that there was a problem by Bofur, the miner had come crashing into the library where Thorin, Balin and Dwalin sat in conference over their plans for crossing the Misty Mountains, his clothes dripping and his hat missing. Before the miner could speak the three were on their feet following the now clear sound of shouting, it wasn’t long before he found his nephews crumpled over each other and sniffling. Thorin rushed majestically to his boys to confirm they were safe but all he could get out was some sniffling wails about the Hobbit and an accident and the lake. Thorin stood to his full height and surveyed the area; his eyes landed on yet another of his Dwarrow’s dripping wet, in his arms lay a small, equally drenched bundle that quickly became identified as the Hobbit. On top of his limp copper curls rested Bofur’s hat and the Halfling wasn’t moving, he looked almost childlike in Bifur’s massive arms. Said Dwarrow was arguing uselessly with an Elf who kept trying to take Master Baggins from Bifur only to be sworn at in Khuzdul. Typical of the Hobbit to get everyone worked up, Thorin walked over to Bifur and looked down at the Hobbit. However where he expected to see big green eyes staring up at him in confusion and disgruntled distress he got closed eyes and blue lips, suddenly everything slowed down as Thorin realised that the Halfling was no longer breathing. 

“Enough…” Thorin mutter, his words lost in the confusion around him. 

“Enough!” this time he shouted, “Our Hobbit needs medical attention. Master Elf please lead us to the infirmary, as quickly as you can. Balin, please find Oin and send him to join us. Nori, I know you’re skulking over there… fetch Gandalf and explain what has happened. Dwalin, kindly knock some sense into my nephews so they can explain to me what has happened. Now!” Suddenly there was a brand new flurry of activity as all, elven and Dwarrow, jumped to follow the orders of Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. 

This was how Lord Elrond found them, his eyes locked to the small unmoving figure of the Hobbit and his arms wrapped ever so slightly tighter around Estel before he followed the procession to the healing halls. 

X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X

It took precious moments they didn’t have to get Bilbo to the infirmary but Thorin tried not to think of how long the Hobbit had been unconscious or how much time had been wasted bickering with elves. As they burst into the pristine white rooms Bifur was directed to lay the Halfling down on a bed much too big for him, it only cemented the idea of the Hobbit as little more than a child to Thorin. He turned away as the elves began their work, it was seconds more before Oin and then Gandalf burst through those same doors. Thorin could hear efforts of revival behind him, Oin was grumbling beneath his beard as he did when he was unhappy, the elves had started chanting and Gandalf was furious. Thorin knew he was about as much use as a match in a mineshaft so he turned to leave only to lock eyes with his nephews, each restrained by Dwalin’s vicelike grip on their ears. Thorin stomped unhappily out of the room, if the Halfling lived Thorin was going to throttle him for delaying them… if he didn’t well Thorin would come up with something worse than death. Dwalin followed silently behind Thorin with his captives until they reached the unexpected peace that was the library, peaceful at least until Thorin gave his boys ‘that’ look. 

“Uncle Thorin, it wasn’t our fault… really this time!” Started Fili

“Yes it wasn’t like the ponies, or the trolls – ooomf , cough – Haaaa” Attempted Kili only to be elbowed by his brother.

“We just thought Master Baggins would like to go fishing, he wandered off…” Fili tried again. 

“I seem to recall the Halfling telling you he didn’t wan’ ta go fishing… dragged him to the lake if memory serves” interjected Dwalin, the glare he got back was almost enough to singe his beard. 

“Just tell me what happened” Thorin demanded, sinking into one of the oversized plush chairs as his temple began to throb. 

“We took Master Baggins fishing, but he wasn’t all that interested” Fili offered 

“While we were distracted he slipped away, apparently he was walking down the banks.” Kili finished 

“From what we could tell, part of the bank was eroded from beneath. You wouldn’t see it until you were on it, and looks like it gave way.”

“I swear we didn’t know he couldn’t swim!” wailed his youngest nephew. Thorin raised a brow; he’d also been unaware of this fact. 

“Apparently Bifur was nearby and heard the splash, we think he was collecting more flowers… the elves took all of theirs away and you know how he likes to snack on them…” Kili nodded. 

“Jumped in, boots an’ all, apparently. Pulled the Hobbit out of the water and started running back for help, elves tried to take the Halfling… probably thought the old blighter had been the one to drown him. That’s about where you came in.” Finished Dwalin, concise as ever. 

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Asked Kili looking younger than he had seemed in quite some time, Thorin ran a hand over his brow.

“I don’t want to deal with Gandalf if he isn’t. I swear this Hobbit causes nothing but trouble!” and so Thorin Oakenshield settled in to brood and await news of their resident Hobbit. He tried not to think about the way his heart had stuttered to a stop at the sight of the Halfling limp and breathless, he definitely did not think of how much he wanted to burn the raggedy cap that probably still covered his soggy curls. 

This time when the library door swung open it was with a subtle sigh as Lord Elrond himself entered. The four Dwarrows stood, tense and at attention waiting for the news the high elf brought. 

 

“A curious little creature you’ve brought with you Master Oakenshield, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that Bilbo Baggins is still alive… though barely. It shall take some time for him to recover but he was very lucky.” Lord Elrond took a seat across from Thorin and observed him. “I think, Master Oakenshield, you may find his greatest oddities sit very closely to your own.”


	11. In the darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds himself in Limbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you are all wonderful have another chapter!

Bilbo was floating in darkness, his body both weightless and incredibly heavy. He felt himself drift in unknown currents, pulling limbs that he could not control any way they pleased. The Hobbit’s eyes were closed and he sighed feeling more relaxed than he had in so very long, he had no intention of moving until the sounds of a song drifted to him. Deep and strong the voice sang words Bilbo couldn’t understand and yet they hit him deeply causing tears to fall from his eyes. Though he could not understand the words or language Bilbo knew the voice sung of pain and loss, it ripped at him deeply and brought pictures of his parent’s and his home, the life he’d lost his chance to live. Slowly Bilbo forced his eyes open and looked around him, for many moments he questioned his ability to open his own eyes as the darkness around him was all consuming. The small Hobbit turned as best he could, fear gripping him he started in the direction of the voice. He wasn’t exactly running, nor was he floating anymore but Bilbo refused to dwell on the implications as he rushed forward, a tiny spec of light shining ahead of him in the distance. 

Bilbo wasn’t sure how much time passed, it could have been minutes or years in the overwhelming darkness but the spec of light never came closer and the voice never stopped singing until Bilbo found himself singing along. Sinking to his knees in the nothing, despair eating away at him Bilbo sang. Though he didn’t know the language his soul knew the words and so he sang his fear, his regret and his pain until the voice in the distance no longer answered him and he sang alone. Bilbo felt the fear and hurt crawling inside him, digging deeper until it found the wickedness within him. He curled into himself as he felt years of anger and resentment rear its head, every “why me” or “I hate them” every cruel thought or harmful wish, every selfish moment building and fighting to take over. Bilbo felt his face twist with disgust and the desire to lash out with the sickening knowledge he’d enjoy watching them suffer. 

The Hobbit gasped out a pained breath, his finger clutching at his chest and his nails dragging at the skin. The image of his mother’s pale, lifeless face stormed his mind as she finally succumbed to the fading. Suddenly the rage gave way to terrible grief, he rocked back and forth for some time shoving all the rage back into the cage he’d locked up deep within himself and just forced himself to breathe. As the static began to fade from his ears and Bilbo got his breathing under control he noticed that the singing had started again, but this time closer and gentler. Bilbo looked around and saw a man huddled by a campfire and scrubbing at his teary eyes he stumbled towards the man ignoring how his chest seemed to be caving in. 

The man didn’t look up as Bilbo approached, he was a huge beast of a man but Bilbo did not feel fear upon seeing him. Rather he felt a great sadness and pity for the man sitting alone in this empty place with his small fire and nothing more, he projected such a feeling of pain the Bilbo felt tears prick again at his eyes. Bilbo opened his mouth to ask if he might join the stranger, share the fire and the sorrow so that they might lighten each other’s load but when he attempted to speak his voice was gone and water spilled from his lips. Panic gripped Bilbo and he felt himself drowning all over again, he tried to gesture to the man for help but the other did not seem to see him and only continued staring at his fire singing softly. 

 

Bilbo scratched at his throat, trying to stem the flow of water and breathe. So this was the afterlife, came an unbidden thought from the darkness of his subconscious, trapped unseen in the darkness reliving your death. 

‘If the dwarves had cared you wouldn’t have died, they would have been able to save you…’ came the voice from the cage, angry and poisonous. 

Bilbo shook his head ‘What could they have done? How were they to know I could not swim or that I would fall? They could have been hurt or worse trying to help me!’ he argued within his head, standing eyes closed with water dripping from his lips

‘Those Brats should not have forced you to the water! They only wanted to mock you, use you as entertainment and fuel for their cruel pranks. Just as they did with the Trolls, trying to get you hated and killed!’

“No, they’re good lads. High spirited but harmless. Besides, I…’ A face drifted to him, young and full of fear beneath the water ‘I chose this, to save the boy” 

‘Ha! A boy you don’t even know, perhaps he deserved to die.’

“Enough!” Bilbo shouted, anger of a new kind filling him forcing the cruel voice back to its prison and allowing him to breathe easily once more. It was only when he opened his eyes and his line of sight locked with the stranger did Bilbo realise the shout was audible and his mouth no longer filled with water. 

“You should not be here” Rumbled the gruff voice of the stranger, hoarse as though used little and accent strange on the words clearly foreign to him. 

“Then where should I be? In fact… where am I?” Bilbo countered, sitting across the fire from the man. 

“You are in the waiting…” the stranger spat something harshly familiar and continued “between places, to wait” he tried again growling as he struggled over the words and reverting to what appeared to be his natural tongue. He muttered and grumbled for a few minutes before he seemed to realise Bilbo couldn’t understand a word but was nodding politely, he growled again. 

He gestured at the darkness surrounding them “This is a place of death, I wait for boy but get you. You’re not to be here.” Suddenly things made sense a little, he’d interfered in something he was clearly not meant to “Ghivashel stepped in, wants I should wait with you until ready. She likes you, I see why Demup telek menu. She says you remember, I have hope in this. My son may need you, he has not dreamt in many seasons and you… change I think.”

Bilbo kept smiling at the strange man, so far no more than his interference in another’s death making sense but the Hobbit figured if spirits and death made sense they’d be more willing to communicate with the living. 

“Ah, time is come. Tan gamut warg ai-menu little favourite, for this day it is denied.” The man reached out, through the flames and grabbed Bilbo. The poor, shocked Hobbit didn’t have a chance to react before he was being dragged into the centre of the fire. Flames licked and burnt him, Bilbo screamed as the fire tore at his chest and agony descended with a fierceness. Darkness gave way to blinding light and pain beyond imagination as he scrambled for breath without success, his chest burning he scratched at it begging for relief. His hands were thrown back and he was held down, causing the small Hobbit to writhe in sheer panic. The blinding light slowly began to fade as he fought his restraints and Bilbo felt all his will to struggle leave him, above him stood the strangest assortment of spirits he’d ever seen… Elves and Dwarves alike stood over him, forcing the Hobbit to stillness. Slowly the static and paid began to fade and he was aware of a familiar voice calling his name. 

“Bilbo lad, ye need to settle down so’s the medic can look you over. You took a bit of a tumble but you’ll be right as rain ’fore you know it” Bofur’s face hovered near his own and Bilbo felt his body relax, either the afterlife was starting to look up or he wasn’t as dead as he’d thought. 

“Bo…ofur” he choked out, his throat burning. “ ‘m alive?” he asked just to be sure. 

“Yeah lad, let’s keep it that way shall we?” The Dwarf winked at him as the Elves began rushing about, Bilbo felt his eye lids droop as exhaustion flooded him

“Hmm, sounds like a plan... I’d hate Ghivashel to get…ywaaaahhh… in more trouble over me” he yawned heavily his lids dropping closed, not seeing Bofur or the other Dwarves in the room freeze and stare at him in disbelief. 

“Where in Durin’s Beard did that come from?!” came the helpful exclamation from Nori where he was observing in the corner, Bofur only shrugged as he backed away to let Oin and the Elves do their work. Bewilderment still gracing his featured as he wondered how to explain this to Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Khudzdul  
> “Demup Telek menu” – Honour acts through you  
> “Tan gamut warg ai-menu” – May a good death be upon you   
> “Ghivashel” treasure of all treasures


	12. Questions without answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Prior to this Thorin was being extremely difficult in this fic but he’d finally decided to play ball but we’ve got 2 possible paths for this story to go! He also feels the need to redeem himself following the finale of my other fic... not in this chapter specifically but just wait!!!)

Thorin paced irritably following the unexpected visit from Elrond, the elf’s cryptic and yet knowing words grating him the wrong way. Following the elf’s departure from the library Thorin left his friends and absconded to the deeper recesses of the literary forest. Thorin found solace in the silent tomes and empty space, no one to look at him with expectations and no one to disappoint. Especially no Hobbit to scare away with his gruff demeanour and harsh words, no Halfling to stare at him with wide moss eyes and messy russet curls with a mixture of awe and disappointment that hurt each time the Dwarrow glimpsed it.

Thorin did not like the Hobbit, did not like looking at him, thinking about him and certainly did not like the way he was inexplicably drawn to the soft little creature. Thorin Oakenshield especially didn’t like the way he sat up at night thinking of their resident burden with fear in his chest for how this was slowly changing the Halfling, how though he smiled more fear dogged his steps and something troubled him deeply. He hated that he knew down when the Hobbit dreamt sweet things and when his sleep was plagued with unknown darkness, Thorin hated how the later was more frequent but never seemed to slow the Hobbit and yet those were the days he usually caused trouble for the company. 

The King without his Mountain hated the way the Hobbit looked at the youngest of their company, though older than he by decades, with such tender regret and sympathy that it put Thorin on edge for threats that never came to be. Thorin hated that he didn’t know who or what the gentle Shireling had left behind him that made him sigh so sadly and look back so wistfully and more than anything Thorin Hated that he cared at all. 

Thorin tried to shake thoughts of the Hobbit from his mind with little success, instead images of the Halfling still and cold in Bifur’s arms filled his mind. So small, so fragile and so very empty in those moments it brought images of another to Thorin’s mind. A tangled mess of once glimmering gold now stained with dirt and blood, the few braids that once hung proud were nowhere to be found. Laughing sapphire eyes now dull and sightless, armour that once glittered like the sun was painted with things a younger Thorin couldn’t identify and refused to thin on, breastplate crushed in and mail torn from one side where fresh blood continued to ooze. Bruised, broken and bloodied but soundless, not a gasp or whisper came from familiar lips. No longer possessing enough energy to express the agony that filled him, simply empty. Thorin felt his eyes burn with tears he’d long thought buried; he didn’t like the way this Hobbit was able to stir up memories he had no right to, memories the Dwarrow had no chance of controlling nor containing and so with pain and anger boiling up within him Thorin stomped out of the Library, face a mask of fury, to find something he could destroy, not even acknowledging Dwalin when his friend and guard followed him. 

It didn’t take them long, however, to strip down and begin sparring. Dwalin had dealt with Thorin’s moods long enough not to need to ask what was wrong or to hesitate to bodily put himself at risk to help the other work through it, Dwalin always knew when Thorin had been thinking of the past, of his losses and responsibilities. It was some hours later, when the pair were slick with sweat and breathing heavily that Bofur found them and reported what had happened in the healing halls. Barely registering the relief that the Hobbit had woken the pair shared a dark look at the creature’s use of their language. 

“Gather the company, seems some may need a reminder to hold their tongues around outsiders” Thorin growled and stormed back towards the rooms the company shared, he did not notice the worried look Dwalin and Bofur shared before jogging to find the rest of the scattered company. 

 

X~X~X~X

When Bilbo next awoke it was to the kind, familiar eyes of Gandalf. The Hobbit smiled up at his friend and attempted to sit, hand instantly reached out to help him and before the small man new it he was comfortably seated with a cup of sweat tea the likes of which he’d never tasted before. Bilbo suspected the healers had slipped something into it but he didn’t mind overly much. As the elves drifted away and gave the pair their privacy Bilbo smiled up at Gandalf. 

“Nice that you decided to stay with us lad” Gandalf chuckled with a sip of his own tea “Seems you have both worried and confused a great many of our companions” 

“How so? It is not so unusual for a Hobbit to take incident with a body of water larger than one’s own bathtub” Bilbo threw back with a smile and a raised eyebrow. 

“Hmmm, true enough for those who know Hobbits well but it seems our Dwarven company were under the impression you could swim and our Elven host’s that another was at risk of drowning” At this Bilbo forgot his tea entirely, his eyes locking widely with Gandalf’s own.

“Gandalf! Are you saying what I think you are? There is another like me within Rivendell?” Bilbo was nearly vibrating with excitement but with whole body sagged with disappointment when the old wizard merely shook his head with a small downturn of his lips. 

“I’m afraid not my boy, though you may have a very interesting conversation with Lord Elrond about his young charge later this day. The same boy I believe you saved today?” Bilbo nodded sadly “I suspected as much, though I think you’ll be more captivated by the conversation you’ll be having with the company later tonight.” Another raised brow was the Hobbit’s only response. 

“Bilbo my lad, have you ever learnt Khudzdul the secret language of the Dwarves?”

“Pffft how could I Gandalf, when as you say it’s a secret!” Bilbo wondered if perhaps his friend was going senile. 

“Yes it is, but how else would your explain using it when first you woke? To the dwarves no less, I think they will be very interested in your answer.” 

“I did What?!” Bilbo exclaimed before he was silence by a rather extreme coughing fit and the sudden appearance of several concerned elven healers. His lungs apparently protesting such hearty abuse so quickly, before long Gandalf was ushered out of the healing halls and Bilbo was again dosed up with laced tea which relaxed his aching body enough to sleep briefly.


	13. Bedside Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A double post to make up for the short chapters... and because I lack the will power to deny you lovely people anything. Including updates!!!

When Bilbo awoke next the healing halls were mostly empty but there was a warm, comforting presence off to his side. Bilbo opened his eyes and was greeted by the site of Lord Elrond sitting regally beside his bed reading the same book Bilbo had read to the Dwarves not so long ago. 

“The greatest tragedy to any race on Middle Earth, Master Baggins, is the loss of a child. I believe I have you to thank for preventing that heartbreak on my family… though I confess confusion on how.” 

Bilbo sat up in his sickbed and cleared his throat nervously noting the distinct lack of discomfort. “I’m not sure what I can tell you Sir, and less sure you’d believe me if I told what I myself know” 

Lord Elrond put down the book and smiled at the Hobbit “I thank you for not attempting to lie to me Master Hobbit, I think you’ll find me more open to the possibilities than others of my kind. Though should you wish not to tell me I wouldn’t pressure you…?”

“No, it’s not that. I just… I never tried to explain this to someone before except Gandalf and he doesn’t really count. I just don’t really know where to start or how to explain…”

“Perhaps, if I can make a suggestion, start at the beginning and simply tell me a story the way you did your Dwarves when you translated the tale of the Pan Flute Thief.”

“Well I suppose that makes sense. I guess to start I’d have to say that People tend to think I’m rather unfortunate and clumsy for a Hobbit; what no one, but a tall and mischievous wizard, knows is that I’m not…”

And so for the first time Bilbo told his story to the willing ears of Lord Elrond, he told everything as he’d come to understand it. The dreaming, the aging requirements, the loss of his parents, the suffering he’d endured both for and from others, his friendship with Gandalf, the changes he’d seen with the Dwarves, the dream he’d had of the young boy drowning in the river, his fear and his decision, what he remembered of his fall and the Man singing in the darkness and the words he’d told him. Everything but his unusual preoccupation with one particular brooding Dwarf. 

All through his tale Lord Elrond was a silent but attentive listener, never interrupting but simply absorbing everything the little Hobbit had to say but little did the Hobbit realise that the Elven Lord was not his only captivated audience. Bilbo had yet to notice the 3 silent, still and unusually pale dwarven onlookers huddled by the door barely daring to breathe as they too absorbed the Hobbit’s revelation and later Elrond’s explanation of his own gift, the elf hiding his ghost of a smile knowing full well they were not alone. Some things the Dwarves would need to know moving forwards.


	14. The burdens of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left Kudos and comments!!!! You make me write more and every chapter I write is an Update you get!!!

When Bilbo finished his tale he felt a kind of peace settle over him as Lord Elrond absorbed the information and offered his own unique insight. For so long Bilbo had kept his secret, not for any untoward reason but for the peace of mind and sanity of those around him. It was a lot easy to believe one bachelor Hobbit was insane than to contemplate that you may be responsible for the suffering of others, Bilbo had never wanted to put one of his neighbours or friends in that position. It was just the kind of Hobbit he was. 

Lord Elrond explained to Bilbo about his own gift of sight and the vision he’d had of the boy, Estel, drowning in the river and his subsequent confusion finding the boy contentedly napping and Bilbo on the verge of entering the netherworld. Things began to fit into place within Bilbo’s mind, even as his body began to sag with exhaustion. He asked the Elven lord many questions that had plagued him over the years, some he could answer and others he could not. It became clear that Elves, as a race, do not sleep often or deeply which seemed to Lord Elrond to explain Bilbo’s lack of dreaming once he entered their realm though the wise Elf had little to offer when it came to the particulars of Bilbo’s predicament or why he survived. 

“I think, Master Baggins, your answers may well lay with your Dwarven companions. It was a Dwarf who saved you, a secret language of the Dwarves you spoke when you awoke and if my observation skills do not fail me, it is a Dwarf to which you find yourself drawn. Is it not?” Lord Elrond inquired casually with a delicate arch of one brow. 

Bilbo had been nodding along with his other points when what was said registered in his slightly overwhelmed mind, there was nothing he could do to stop the subsequent heating of his cheeks or ears at being caught out but he said nothing. 

“Get some rest while you can Master Baggins, I am sure your companions will be in to check on you shortly in all their loud Dwarvish glory. I will check in with you periodically but if you find yourself in need of anything please do not hesitate to ask one of the healers to assist you. Until we meet next Master Baggins.” With a regal nod of his head Lord Elrond glided away leaving the book on the chair beside Bilbo’s bed and the poor Hobbit reeling with the implications of his words. 

That was until an unexpected clatter drew his attention and Bilbo was faced with the shocked faces of three young Dwarfs, one clearly trying to will himself away and two caught in the act of attempted to right a knocked side table and a litter of medical supplies which explained the noise. As their eyes met across the room Bilbo’s opened with shock and fear that was mirrored in the young Dwarves own before the three promptly fled the room, Fili and Kili bodily dragging Ori behind them.

Watching their retreating figures Bilbo felt his mouth go dry and a cold sweat break across his skin, how much had the youngsters heard and who would they tell. Bilbo fell back against the crisp white sheets, his head spinning and his stomach rolling with dread. Years of silence and in the space of a few minuted he could go from ‘Bad Luck Baggins’ to ‘Mad Baggins’ for sure. Bilbo cringed and began planning for his inevitable return to the Shire; the Dwarves surely would not want a lunatic on their quest. 

X~X~X~X~X

Fili & Kili ran, dragging a hapless Ori behind them until they found the room they had been assigned and pulled the dazed scribe in after them slamming the door. Out of breath and panting the pair slid to the floor together with their backs against the door while Ori began to pace mechanically. Moments ticked by in eerie silence as the three considered what they’d heard and whether they believed Mister Baggins’ story or if the Hobbit was Barking. Unexpectedly it was Ori that finally broke the silence. 

“Well…” he huffed breathlessly “This explains some things.” 

“What things?” the brothers asked in shock, it seemed Ori was considering the nonsense to be entirely plausible.

“Really you too,” The scribe shot them a scathing look “I don’t know whether to start with your utter lack of observational skills or the fact that you still seem so wilfully ignorant of everything.”

The pair sat slack jawed at Ori’s response, the usually quiet younger Dwarf seemed full to bursting with excitement. 

“We’ll start with the obvious,” he began resuming his pacing and thinking out loud “Have the pair of you not noticed that things have become significantly better for the company since Master Baggins arrived? Things go wrong sure, as things always will, but they’re never as bad as they could or logically should be? Case in point: the incident with the Trolls. Logically it should have been one of you that got caught trying to save the ponies, caught and inevitably killed or at least maimed… However, Master Baggins miraculously appeared and saved your backsides didn’t he? Got caught instead but still got us free without any injury to anyone but the Trolls!” 

“I guess, but that’s just a coincidence. He turned up with our supper, could have been anyone.” Fili tried to point out but Ori continued on without hearing him. Kili just shrugged. 

“The ongoing issues with Wargs, Elves and, if Lord Elrond it to be believed, the incident drowning too. Everything has been survivable and happening to Master Baggins despite him not being the logical choice. Just look at how protective Gandalf is of him, he must indeed be special in some way to be so favoured by a Wizard. And if the pair of you bothered to read your history books like Balin told you too then you’d know the story Mister Baggins described has been told before within our own people!” 

Now the young princes looked shocked and more than a little regretful for shirking their studies, short lived as that regret was. 

“Within Dwarven history there have been many seers and prophets that have claimed similar stories, though never as clear or detailed I must admit. I must ask Master Baggins to let me scribe his story! Anyway the point it that Mister Baggins has a gift, especially if that last part about the Khudzdul and the man in the darkness is true. I believe he may have been speaking to Mahal himself, how else would he hear those words. And you know what they say about Hobbits, created by Yavanna wife of Aule… Oh we must tell the others, they’ll be amazed!” 

By this point Ori was speaking so fast the brothers were having difficulty keeping up but they had grasped the important bits, standing they approached the excited scribe and shook him from his tangent. 

“Ori we can’t tell anyone,” Kili began, silencing the younger Dwarf with a soft look and a hand on his shoulder. 

“We aren’t even supposed to know remember” Fili finished shaking his head. 

“But we do know, and the others…” 

“Ori the others may not believe Master Boggins as you do, after all what proof does he have? They have not taken to him as you have.” Fili continued

 

“Yeah, he still gets Dwalin’s name wrong… not that anyone’s allowed to tell him since Nori’s started taking bets.” Kili offered unhelpfully. 

“The point is that the others would probably think he’s lost his marbles or that he’s some kind of spy stealing stories from our history books. Especially if it’s like he said and no one remembers when they wake up.”

“We need to help Mister Boggins keep this a secret at least until the others might be a little more receptive to the idea or he can prove it. You know what tends to happen to people who are different” Kili added softly looking Ori in the eye, they’d both suffered the harsh judgements of others because of how they looked or acted. Though they didn’t usually let anyone see, the pair had an unspoken understanding on that front and slowly Ori nodded, his excitement replaced with stoic determination. 

“Okay, so we keep it a secret then. But now what? We can’t just pretend we don’t know what we now do.” The young redhead pushed. 

“Ori I don’t think there’s anything we can do, at least not yet. For now we let the Hobbit heal under the care of the tree shaggers, let him know that we believe him and just watch out for him. Step in if we think things are getting out of hand and keep our eyes peeled for anything strange.” Fili answered

“For someone so childish you can be really bossy when you want to be, fine. I don’t have to like this decision but I guess I have no choice but to go along, however I think we should probably let Master Baggins know we’re on his side sooner rather than later. He probably thinks he’s going to be outed.”

“Aye Aye Ori!” the pair said in unison, once again grabbing an arm each and dragging the scribe after them through the halls of the Elves. Ignoring all raised eyebrows and calls to “Slow down before you break something… or someone” at least until they ran bodily into Thorin Oakenshield himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWWWWW!


	15. Little White Lies

After Lord Elrond’s visit Bilbo was put into “isolation” by the healers, they seemed to believe that all the excitement was hindering his recovery. Bilbo felt it was more likely due to his rather failed attempt to run after the three eavesdropping Dwarfs that had ended with him face first on the floor tangled in his bedsheets, apparently his hand eye co-ordination would continue to be off while he took the medicine they prescribed, which he was to take until further notice. 

Bilbo knew that they Dwarves’ had attempted to visit him, he could often hear arguing from the large wooden doors that separated him from the world. First it had been Ori, then Thorin and Derlin, even Balin and Bofur tried their luck to get in but the healers were resolute. In the end they allowed Oin in to check his recovery out of respect for the older physician, the half deaf Dwarf tutted and checked Bilbo’s breathing before muttering to himself and discussing his treatment with the Elves. Bilbo hadn’t expected much from the distant Dwarf, he’d actually expected more hostility for delaying their travel but the elder was practically clinical which when the Hobbit thought about it made perfect sense. After Oin’s visit the other Dwarves stopped attempting to gain access to Bilbo’s room, clearly trusting the judgement their own medic over that of an Elf. 

Bilbo was kept under Elf supervision for a week, he heard them muttering often and with his limited grasp of Sindarin he gathered they were concerned for possible brain damage or lasting effect. Apparently he’d been under the water longer than he’d first presumed and none could understand his speedy recovery, especially considering a Hobbit’s rather unnatural ability to sink even in the smallest bodies of water. However soon they could find no further reason to confine him to his sick bed and the Elves were forced to release their mysterious and somewhat reluctant patient back to his own rooms and his company of boisterous Dwarfs. 

When Bilbo returned to the Dwarves he was clapped on the shoulder and asked often about his recovery but curiously few would look him in the eye, his spirits fell as he assumed they now knew of his story from the youngest of their number. However the Hobbit did not let this deter him and with an air of stubborn confidence he approached Thorin for his inevitable dismissal from the company, however not before thanking Bifur profusely for saving his life much to the Dwarf’s embarrassment. Steeling himself, with a casual touch of the locket hanging from his neck under his shirt, Bilbo approached the King and cleared his throat.

“I believe you wanted to speak with me Master Oakenshield” Bilbo offered when the other turned to face him, Derlin and Balin stood on either side of Oakenshield but Bilbo did not spare the pair a second thought as he tried not to flinch back from the heat and disgust heavy in their leader’s glare. 

“Halfling, it is you who shall want to speak and offer explanations as to your actions.” His voice was ice and Bilbo could not help the shiver that ran down his spine. The room around them went silent. 

“Which actions, precisely, do you believe require explanation?” Bilbo replied equally as cold, his back straightening and his Tookishness flaring its head. He’d done nothing worthy of the distain Oakenshield was showing him, and while that wasn’t unusual for the Dwarf in question Bilbo was more than a little sick of it. 

Matching the King under-the-Mahal-damned-mountain glare for glare was not an easy task but the small Hobbit relished the opportunity none-the-less, up until a not so subtle throat clearing broke the moment. Balin, ever the peace keeper it seemed, was responsible for said interruption. 

“Master Baggins, what Thorin is trying to ask is how you came across a particular word you used when you woke up. A very unusual word that few, aside from Dwarves themselves, know.”

“Oh, That! Gandalf mentioned something about that I believe… I said something unusual apparently?” Bilbo aimed the question at Balin; he was now steadily ignoring the Dwarf shaped storm cloud at Balin’s shoulder. “To be perfectly honest I don’t even remember saying anything, I was rather out of sorts. Oh I do hope I didn’t say anything inappropriate.” Bilbo felt his ears and cheeks warm in embarrassment at the idea of blurting out profanities while half conscious. 

“No nothing like that, I can assure you. We merely need to discern where you learnt this word, if possible.” Balin continued with that patient, disarming smile. Though Bilbo was not fooled, he knew it was an attempt to lull him into a false sense of safety to trick him into revealing more than he intended. 

“Oh, well without knowing the word in particular…” Bilbo looked at the Dwarf, with a shake of his silver head Balin confirmed that it would not be repeated for clarifications sake “I can’t really tell you. I had some very strange dreams while I was unconscious, I would not be surprised if it was merely gibberish from me that happened to sound similar to a word of your language. Otherwise perhaps a book I read in the past that revisited my fevered dreams. I cannot be sure is anything other than the fact that I have no memory of saying something I shouldn’t.” Though Bilbo could remember the word most likely said as he remembered the strange man in his dream, the Hobbit was not lying when he said he did not recall what he had spoken. He was running entirely off Gandalf’s information for the time he woke up, which was second hand and not always the most reliable anyway. The meddling wizard did have a habit of exaggerating or embellishing a situation. 

Bilbo looked around the room at the Dwarves studiously avoiding his eye, all but Ori who looked at him pleadingly. It was then that Bilbo realised the young lads had not yet spoken of his condition for whatever the reason, for this reason he decided to take a new tact for truly he did not wish to leave the company yet though their resident storm cloud could take a long jump off a small cliff for all he cared at this moment. 

“Master Balin, I would speak to you privately about this matter if you please.” Bilbo asked, his posture straightening as it usually did with only his most difficult of relatives. He knew he would need to explain some of what happened, though he dreaded the reaction should the whole company know. Balin, at least, could be trusted to keep his head when things did not always go to plan. 

The older Dwarf’s brows rose in deep surprise at the change in the Hobbit, but he nodded none the less and so the pair left the room in silence. Bilbo could sense Oakenshield vibrating with anger but knew there was no point trying to reason with the Dwarf in this state, he’d dealt with enough Sackville-Bagginses to know that much. Together the pair walked to the room which Balin shared with his brother, only a few doors down but comfortably furnished. 

Once the door was securely closed behind them and both were seated in the excessively large chairs situated before the cold fireplace Bilbo took a steadying breath and his confidence flooded out of him. To his credit Balin sat in silence waiting patiently for the Hobbit to collect himself, though he had to be wondering why he was singled out… or perhaps he knew why and just wanted to get this over with. 

“Master Balin, what do you know of Hobbits?” Bilbo asked, his head beginning to throb. 

The question clearly took the Dwarf by surprise though his face did not betray him; clearly a diplomat, the only tell was the slightest twitch of his brows. It seemed their roles were now to reverse. 

“Mister Baggins I must confess to not knowing a great deal about your kind,”   
“Bilbo, Please” The Hobbit interrupted when Balin paused to collect his thoughts. 

“Yes of course, and if you’d care to do the same…” It was clear to both of them by now this was not to be an easy conversation. “I know little more than I have seen or that Gandalf has told us, though Dwarfs have been wandering for years we have had little interactions with Hobbits before.”

“Yes, that wouldn’t surprise me. By nature Hobbits are not the most accepting of folk. Though we love our families, most of them anyhow, over the years we have become comfortable. We do not leave our Smials, our Hobbit holes, often and we rarely leave the Shire. Those that do return swiftly or more often than not become estranged from their people. We are a very traditional and proper kind of people and quite adept at keeping secrets.” A gentle arch of one silver brow was all the response Bilbo received before he continued on. “What I am to tell you is told in confidence and I would appreciate your discretion, I do not want the entire company knowing this but understand you will likely have to inform Master Oakenshield. Hobbits have many secrets, and I am about to reveal one to you in the hopes of explaining what may have happened when I awoke.”

“Please go on Bilbo, you have my word I will be discreet with any information you give me and impress the importance of such to Thorin should it be necessary to inform him.” Satisfied with this answer Bilbo continued. 

“I will not tell you everything, I am sure you understand that I cannot reveal certain things as they are not mine to do so” Balin nodded, and Bilbo took a deep breath “I doubt this will surprise you, it really shouldn’t and yet no one really anticipates it. Dwarves and Elves are not the only ones of Middle Earth with their own language. As a race Hobbits have become so proficient at Westron that most never speak in anything else.” Bilbo felt his breathing constrict, he could not look the Dwarf in the eyes as he bent the truth, “Though it is known to all of us, it is a part of who we are, there are many Hobbits who live their entire lives without uttering a word of our soul-language. While unconscious I had vivid dreams, the Elves confirmed that I was on the brink of death for some time. I believe that in my confusion I may have uttered something I should not have. I believe this is what has happened and been misinterpreted.”

Bilbo shuddered, the soul words, were not the sacred remnants of Kuduk history from before the Wandering Days that he was making them out to be. It is true that Hobbits too once had their own language but through neglect very few remembered it now. As a Baggins Bilbo did and he knew he had not spoken them but he had also suspected that he called them in his fevered dreams from time to time. This was a conversation bound to happen eventually, and if it helped the Dwarfs feel at ease with him until his next mistake then so be it. The knowledge that a language existed was fairly common-sense and itself was not secret, simply a ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ situation. 

As for the Soul-Words, they were not Hobbit specific. In his dreaming the Green Lady sis not speak in Westron and the neither did the Man by the fire. They spoke in a language their own and yet it spoke to Bilbo in a way his body knew but his mind couldn’t comprehend. Bilbo knew it was not a language he could learn but that was within him, he also knew that after particularly vivid dreaming it was not uncommon for him to spend the next morning speaking it without realising how. It was a language that connected all living things, the words and songs of the Valar that gave live to them all but that was not something Bilbo could explain and so he lied. 

When Bilbo raised his eyes to meet Balin’s he saw understanding and empathy reflected there, if anyone would understand what Bilbo was struggling with it would be a Dwarf. The elder nodded and slipped from his chair. “I understand laddie, stay here a while and compose yourself. I will take care of the others for ye’.” Before Bilbo could so much as thank him, Balin had slipped from the room and the Hobbit was alone with his turmoil. 

Speaking of his people brought thoughts of home back to him which was followed by immense guilt for lying to Balin, gripping his locket tightly Bilbo felt tears burn tracks down his flushed cheeks and the throbbing in his head became a thundering force. Images of the last time he’d knowingly spoken soul-words flashed into his mind, standing over his mother’s grave barely past his majority and his father’s before that. Bungo Baggins had never fully recovered from the Fell Winter, a sickness claiming his lungs and eventually his life, and Bilbo’s grief was something that went beyond him as his dreaming began with their passing. 

Bilbo shook with the despair that filled him, silent sobs wracking his tiny frame in the oversized chair. All he could think of was his home, empty and cold, waiting for him to return to the ghosts and demons which dogged his every step waiting to pull him too into the eternal darkness. It was then that it finally struck Bilbo how close he’d been to joining his parents in the afterlife, yet so far away from his home and his people. The fear to return and the fear to stay warred within the Hobbit until he struggled to breathe and panic overtook him. 

Bilbo Baggins shattered that night, his carefully constructed armour cleaved from him and leaving him defenceless. Jagged shards of every fear, every doubt thrust into him until he could not breathe, could not see for the overwhelming tears and alone in the dark all that was Bilbo Baggins came undone and the nothingness took him.

 

X~X~X~X~X

 

It was hours later, when Bilbo had fallen into a fitful sleep that he was discovered. Tossing and whimpering, tears still spilling from his eyes as visions haunted him. A pair of arms reached out in the darkness and pulled the Hobbit from the chair to be cradled against a warm chest, all with such impossible gentleness that not only did the Hobbit not stir but was instantly soothed by the warmth and tenderness of the arms which held him. A single set of eyes, glowing in the darkness looked down at the tear streaked face and a sadness settled within them. The owner of those eyes and arms shifted the Hobbit until he was cradled carefully, as one might carry a child, and silently returned Bilbo Baggins to his own bed and watched him sleep until the sun began to again creep into the sky. It was only then did the watcher leave, lest the Hobbit wake to find he was not alone. With a final look back at the now peaceful Hobbit, looking younger and more vulnerable than the watcher had ever seen him, a muttered curse filled the air followed by the soft click of the closing door.


	16. The Hobb-Orc

The next day Bilbo awoke feeling physically worse than when he’d fallen asleep. His eyes burning, his head continued to pound and everything ached yet a part of him felt soothed. For the first time in years Bilbo had faced his grief, though it hadn’t lessoned any in the years gone by, the young Hobbit felt as though he was perhaps more aware of his own strength. 

Rubbing his tired eyes Bilbo sat up in his overlarge elf bed, he had no memory of returning to it and figured he’d have to thank whoever was responsible. On a normal morning Bilbo would have been mortified at the idea but right now he didn’t care, he felt like he’d not slept for a week and was resoundingly grumpy. Throwing off the covers the Hobbit frowned at his now wrinkled clothes and washed his face, hands and feet with cold water from the pitcher on the dressing table. He quickly changed and stomped off to the kitchen, all he wanted was a cup of tea and maybe a scone. After that he might be able to pretend to be a normal Hobbit for the remainder of the day instead of some kind of miniature Orc. 

As Bilbo stomped about the Elves blissfully gave him a wide berth, the Dwarves however were not so wise. The first unfortunate soul to cross Grumpo Baggins’ path was Bombur, the rotund Dwarf receiving a muffled snarl in response to his cheery “good morning” and was understandably stunned by the HobOrc. 

Bilbo did not stop in his mission, it did not even faze him yet that it appeared the Dwarves had deemed him acceptable company again. The next to encounter the sour-sod was the ever cheerful Kili, who was apparently most definitely a morning person. The poor lad was in the kitchen when ‘Grumpo’ entered, he was already chattering away to what appeared to be the still slumbering form of his brother who was slumped over the kitchen counter snoring softly. 

At Bilbo’s entrance Kili began chattering excitedly, the words registering as nothing but chaotic noise to Bilbo’s fuzzy pain-filled head. This assault on the senses caused an equal retaliation from ‘Grumpo’ in the form of a nearby apple shoved non-too-gently into the gaping chasm that was Kili’s mouth. Stunned, Kili stood looking like a stuck pig and simply stared at the HobOrc as Bilbo set about making his cup of tea in silence, until Fili woke up and began to laugh at his brother… resulting in a teacup thrown at his head and hitting him square between his eyes. Both Princes watched the Hobbit in amazement, ignoring the shattered cup on the ground. 

Slowly other Dwarves filtered into the large Elven kitchen to watch the spectacle, silent ones like Ori went unnoticed by the cranky creature. Louder entries, such as Dwalin (Derlin) or Gloin received suitable punishment in the form of various kitchen items thrown at their heads with amazing accuracy. What the Dwarves found most amazing was that the HobOrc wasn’t even looking at them, he didn’t even seem awake yet but at the smallest sound the item nearest the small creature would be found hurtling with precise accuracy at the offenders head. 

The funniest by far was of course Thorin’s entrance, as his was the last as the HobOrc was pouring his cup of tea, some kind of bready cake shoved in his mouth. Thorin made his usual dramatic entrance, calling out before he’d even entered the room… “What are you all…” that was as far as he got before a bag, about the size of Dwalin’s fist, hit him in the face and exploded… dousing the regally outraged Dwarf in sugar. There was a tense moment of silence before the kitchen erupted into silent chaos. 

Thorin’s mouth dropped open even as his face went red, Fili & Kili’s eyes became the size of the saucers previously thrown at Bofur, Dwalin pounced with surprising agility to cover Thorin’s mouth before he could begin shouting. Bofur and Ori made a shield around Bilbo and the rest of the company began laughing uncontrollably but as silently as possible. Completely unaware of the havoc he’d caused Bilbo shuffled out of the kitchen and back to the parlour the company had been lent where he curled up in the biggest, softest chair he could find and sipped his tea and nibbled his cake until the world began to make sense again. 

Well as much sense as it could with a company of Dwarves staying in the home of Elves…


	17. Don't Belong

Once back on the road the dreams returned in full force but with less accuracy, instead of vivid dreams of the day to come Bilbo began to see disjointed events and an encroaching darkness. It unnerved the Hobbit greatly; he woke from his sleep more often and became more haggard by the day. This did not go unnoticed by the Dwarves, most putting it to rest as “Hobbitly Softness” or homesickness but Bilbo was not so sure. They’d left Gandalf back with the Elves so the young dreamer was missing his best interpreter and though he did long for the restful nothingness of Rivendell Bilbo knew he had to keep going forward. 

Now however they were stumbling through the rain, hiking up the steep mountain path and Bilbo questioned the wisdom of joining the Dwarves again on this fool’s errand. The night before Bilbo had dreamt of falling, nothing to tell him who or when or why through the grey haze that crept further and further into his sleeping mind. Fear and weariness made his normally swift and nimble feet sluggish and heavy, each step a mission through the slick mud and rock. All sound drowned out by the crashing of thunder above them and the pelting rain, little visibility except when lightning would crackle through the heavens and paint everything stark and blinding. 

Bilbo heard the Dwarves shouting but their words lost on the wind, he felt the stone vibrating and moving beneath him but was so focused on trudging forward that he did not see the giants come to life, not until Derlin pushed him back against the stone wall as they were showered in rubble. Bilbo should have been amazed, he should have been awed and petrified but instead the Hobbit was simply tired and numb. He was aware that he should feel more in this moment, aware of what a deathly yet rare sight lay before him and saw mirrored on the faces of the Dwarves around him the emotions he knew he should feel but inside him was hollow. Cold, tired and empty the Hobbit trudged on and followed the Dwarves as they were steered and thrown about by the stone giants. Bilbo barely even registered as he was hanging onto the edge of the mountainside, simply clinging to the edge and moments away from falling. That was until he was staring into the panicked eyes of Ori and Bofur as they tried uselessly to reach for him and felt an incredible heat, like a lightning strike, at his back before he was being thrown once more upward towards the ledge full of Dwarves.

Before Bilbo could register his safety and acknowledge his saviour Thorin Oakenshield had turned into his own personal storm cloud again, spitting venom about the uselessness of their ‘lost Hobbit’. Bilbo felt the little warmth that had returned to him bleed away in an instant and numbly allowed himself to be steered into the equally cold but welcomely dry cave. The young Hobbit bedded down where Bofur directed him and closed his eyes, he didn’t sleep but listened to the sounds of the Dwarves and tried not to think. Tried not to remember hateful words, both past and present, and above all tried not to lash out. Hours ticked by and the sounds faded, making Bilbo’s mind’s voice louder by the minute. The Hobbit had never felt so small and in an instant he knew he had to get out, he felt as though he was suffocating despite the clean mountain air around him. Silently the Burglar lived up to his title and packed with panicked speed, he slipped around sleeping Dwarves and was almost out the entrance before he was spotted. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” whispered Bofur as he stood to block Bilbo’s path

“Back to Rivendell.” Responded the Hobbit, trying to hide his panic to leave. 

“No, no, you can’t turn back now; you’re part of the Company. You’re one of us.” Bilbo scoffed thinking or Thorin Oaken-asshat-shield’s words earlier. 

“I’m not though, am I?” he voice dripped with self-loathing and scorn, “Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I’m not a Took, I’m a Baggins, and I don’t know what I was thinking. I should never have run out my door.” Bilbo was too caught up in his pain and fear to feel the familiar burn of those eyes on him, assessing him. 

“You’re homesick; I understand.” Bofur tried to reason but Bilbo lashed out without thinking. 

“No, you don’t, you don’t understand! None of you do you’re dwarves… You don’t see what I see; you don’t feel what I feel! You have each other, you have family! Don’t you see?! You’re used to this  
life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, but having everything you need, everything that actually matters with you. Having something to dream for, to protect and to suffer for!” 

Bilbo turned away from Bofur’s stunned silence, slipped out of his reach and began heading for the cave entrance when a strange blue light began to fill the cave and all hell broke loose as the cave floor gave way beneath the slumbering Dwarves and their resident Hobbit.


	18. Catching breath

A lot of things changed after Goblin town and the subsequent Orc attacks, it wasn’t until the third day sitting in Beorn’s massive garden that Bilbo truly had a chance to reflect on this though.   
The two biggest changes warred for most astounding in Bilbo’s mind but in sequential order the first was his new ring. Found in the depths of Goblin town, burgled from a terrifying yet pitiful creature whom had wanted to eat Bilbo, the small golden trinket not only turned the Hobbit invisible but also served to hide him from his dreams. Bilbo had not suffered a single dream since he came to possess the small golden band, for which he was entirely grateful. His sleep was still fitful and unsatisfying for the most part, but he no longer dreamt. 

The second major change came in the form of one Thorin Oakenshield. Since Bilbo returned to the company after escaping the mountain he’d felt Thorin’s eyes following him, even as they ran from Orcs and Wargs he felt that burning gaze. Bilbo couldn’t say what it was that had prompted him to throw himself between that Orc and the prone form of their leader; he’d simply been gripped with such intense fear at the sight of Thorin so very still. However things had become clearer to the Hobbit as he stood atop the Carrock; his breath finally returned to him as Gandalf confirmed that Thorin would live, however nothing compared to the feeling of being wrapped in his embrace. Bilbo knew from months of travel that Dwarves radiated heat on a larger level than any Hobbit he’d met but Thorin was in a league of his own, his entire body felt like a furnace and his strong arms like iron as they wrapped around the smaller male. Bilbo should have felt trapped, his skin burning and overheated, but instead he felt secure in Thorin’s strength as though wrapped and held by the infallible branches of the party tree back in the Shire which he and other Hobbits would climb as faunts. As for the heat, though Bilbo knew he should be uncomfortable he couldn’t help but snuggle closer as some of the ice which had settled in his veins over the course of the journey finally began to melt. 

Bilbo could interpret the signs clearly enough, he recognised the danger of his growing attraction to Thorin Oakenshield but just as how he could never truly escape his dreams the young Hobbit realised this too he was powerless to evade on his own. 

X~X~X~X~X

Ori couldn’t take it anymore, he’d waited long enough and he was now out of patience! He had questions, when didn’t he, and it seemed their resident Hobbit was the only who seemed to have answers. He’d held his tongue, not something the young scribe was used to, but now they finally had a chance to rest and said Hobbit couldn’t be found alone at any point in time! Bilbo always seemed to be flanked by at least one other Dwarrow now, as if to ensure the Hobbit didn’t have anymore unexpected incidents, but this made it difficult to secret him off and interrogate him. The answer finally came to Ori in the form of a large bouquet of flowers in the centre of the dining table which Bilbo was attempting to stop Bifur eating much to everyone’s amusement. 

“You can’t eat these ones, they’re not for eating! Look if you must eat some greenery I saw some mint in the garden earlier and I will fetch some of that… no that’s lavender it won’t taste-” the Hobbit was cut off by Bifur pointedly chewing on the purple flower, yet the tense lines around his eyes told the young Dwarrow that it was a clearly unpleasant task. 

“Bilbo, do you now a lot about flowers and plants?” Ori asked innocently and he could already see the elders groaning internally about the conversation starting. 

“Well a fair amount I’d say, I am a Hobbit after all and we are quite partial to things which grow.” Bilbo offered proudly

“I saw some plants in the garden I didn’t recognise, I’d like to sketch them and write down what they are if you’d join me for a walk.” Ori smiled as Bilbo nodded and pocketed a few of the treats from the table for later. “Would anyone else care to join us?” The eye rolling was almost audible as Ori grabbed his journal and sketching tools before striding off with the Hobbit. 

Once they were a fair way from the main halls Bilbo headed for a large shady tree and settled down against it appearing relaxed, Ori joined him but stayed silent. 

“What do you want to know?” Bilbo sighed without opening his eyes. 

“Everything!” Ori replied without thinking and was surprised by Bilbo’s grimace. 

“I don’t think you’re quite ready for everything, let’s start simpler…”

“Does everyone dream the way you do?” Ori started, flicking open his journal to sketch and take notes. 

“I believe so but I cannot be sure. I do not believe Elves dream as often as Hobbits as they don’t tend to sleep much but without seeing inside someone else’s head I could never be sure. There are limitations too,” Bilbo opened one eye, anticipating Ori’s next question “Children don’t dream, I do not believe you, Fili or Kili are dreaming yet. You can only dream about those within a certain distance and not usually of anything that will result in death…”

Like this Bilbo spent the rest of the afternoon answering Ori’s questions about the dreaming but refused to reveal anything he had dreamt or that since finding his ring the dreaming had stopped as long as he held the trinket while he slept.


	19. Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirkwood... need I say more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Big thank you to all you beautiful readers and to all the lovely people posting comments and kudos, you all make me very happy and I love to hear your thoughts!

Bilbo had never truly appreciated the foresight his dreams gave him, not until they suffered Mirkwood at least. Now Bilbo was huddled, invisible and chilled to the bone in a world of muted colour and haze, in the corner of a little used broom cupboard within the Elven halls of King Thranduil starved for food, sunlight and physical contact. Bilbo spent all of his nights barely sleeping and seething with rage, not a normal emotion for a Child of the Kindly West but the poor Hobbit put it down to the outside influence of Dwarves and Elves. He was Angry at the Dwarves for dragging him, with tragic tales of lost homes and the promise of adventure, from his comfortable and safe life, he was Angry at Gandalf for instigating it all and then abandoning them for some unknown errand, he was furious at the Elves who let their forest become overrun with horrid giant spiders and then accosted innocent, Mostly innocent, travellers and threw them in cells all over the bloody place, he was angry at everything but mostly he was Angry at himself. Bilbo hated that he’d been so weak as to hide from his dreams using the ring and so had not seen any of this coming, had not had the opportunity to prevent or lessen the severity of it. He hated that now, whether he liked it or not, he was stuck using the ring continuously so as not to be caught by the elves as he slowly located the company and planned their escape. He hated himself for, after an entire week, still not having found Thorin or a way to escape and more than anything he hated this ugly black rage that filled him though it did help to fight off the gnawing hunger and pain which dogged his every waking moment. 

Bilbo had slowly learnt the layout of the Elven halls to the point that he walked with confidence in his invisible state but he remained cautious when visiting the company, Bilbo also remained invisible more often around them after the guards had been alerted to a ruckus from them more than once when they caught sight of Bilbo. Apparently Bilbo didn’t look healthy and by the way the elder Dwarves kept trying to force feed him their own meagre meals the Hobbit was getting the impression that he looked as terrible as he felt, if not worse. So he refused to show himself more and more often though he still visited when he could and passed messages amongst the Dwarrow. 

Bilbo snuck what food he could from the Elves for himself but it wasn’t much, they had sharp eyes and he’d heard the kitchen staff discussing the possibility of mice within the halls so Bilbo had to be more cautious with his own portions. So it was the Bilbo was huddled in his corner cursing Elves, Wizards, Spiders and Dwarves as his stomach growled pathetically when he saw a familiar face holding a tray of food which smelt divine to the starving Shireling. Bilbo wasn’t aware he’d followed the son of Thranduil until the Elfling came to a stop before an unknown cell much lower in the halls that Bilbo was accustomed to delving. Hearing a heavy key thunk in a lock Bilbo didn’t think, he followed his stomach and sleep deprived brain and slipped into the cell as the Elf enter to deposit the tray. This its self should have registered as unusual as usually the guards only slipped food through the bars but the Hobbit was far too exhausted to register the multitude of inconsistencies regarding this cell, it was only after the elf left and the door clunked shut behind Bilbo that he realised he was now locked in a cell for an unknown amount of time, with an unknown prisoner and officially no use to his Dwarves. 

Bilbo was about to start berating himself when a metallic clinking drew his eyes to the darkened corner of the cell, the rich smell of stew and fresh bread suddenly forgotten as Bilbo was confronted with a face that was as foreign as it was familiar. 

“…Thorin…” Bilbo whispered before he could stop himself and he watched as the haggard, for that was the only word he could use, King startled in his dark corner before covering his worn face with shackled hands. 

“Enough! Leave me be,” Thorin bemoaned, the sounds was almost a whimper as he added “do not haunt me any longer…”

His heart breaking Bilbo drifted towards the almost shattered looking Dwarf and sunk to his knees, his hand reaching for a hollowed cheek before he remembered his invisibility and with a moment’s hesitation removed his ring before attempting to gain the Leader’s attention as quietly as he was able. 

“Thorin, it is me… Bilbo… I’m not here to haunt you but to help you.” When he received no response Bilbo gave in to temptation and cupped Thorin’s cheek, he tried not to squeak when the Dwarf moved with unexpected speed to catch the Hobbit’s wrist with unforgiving strength. 

“Do not taunt me Spirit, either guide me to the Halls of my maker or leave me be! I have failed my company, my People and all that is left is to perish with my dishonour.” Thorin Thrust Bilbo away from him but the Hobbit could tell he lacked his usual strength, they both did. Bilbo watched the proud Dwarf close further in on himself before he made up his mind, standing as tall as he was able Bilbo thrust his thinning and dirty wrists on his now less than rounded hips in his best impersonation of an impatient and unimpressed Hobbit Mother scolding a wayward child. 

“Thorin I may look like death warmed over but I promise you I am very much alive! Now you will stop this ridiculous sulking this instant!” For good measure Bilbo stomped his foot heavily and watched as a wide eyed Thorin Oakenshield finally turned to face him. 

“How are you here if you are not a spirit…?” Thorin looked him over sceptically

“I am the official Burglar of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, if I couldn’t manage this much then how would I face against a Dragon?” Bilbo tried to laugh with confidence but it came out breathy and weak but Thorin still nodded. 

“It is you then, I am glad that at least you were spared the repercussions of my idiocy.” Thorin began sinking into sadness again but Bilbo wasn’t prepared to finish just yet so he settled beside Thorin with a loud thump. 

“And which bout of idiocy are we currently discussing? What have you been doing while I’ve been trying to break us out?” Thorin released a broken laugh which confused Bilbo further. 

“Why bother? There is nothing left now I cannot return with their blood on my hands…” Thorin held his hands out as if to prove it to Bilbo. 

“Who’s blood Thorin? What’s happened?” Bilbo couldn’t help it, he grasped Thorin’s hands between his own and held fast until the Dwarf lifted his stormy blue eyes to Bilbo’s own. 

“My nephews, my cousins, the whole blasted company… they’re all gone! Dead because of me… But at least you were spared their fate. Return to your Shire Bilbo, leave me here to rot and forget you ever met such a basta…”

THWACK!

Bilbo was staring at Thorin, stinging hand cradled to his chest as he watch the red begin to blossom on Thorin’s cheek even as the King’s jaw dropped in momentary astonishment at being struck. 

“Don’t you say that, Don’t you Ever say that Thorin Oakenshield. Your nephews are alive, the entire company is alive, perhaps a little skinnier and grumpier than before but whole and intact. And we are going to get out of here, I promise you this!” 

“They’re alive? But Thranduil, he said… because of me, they were all executed…” Thorin’s face looked more vulnerable than Bilbo had ever seen it before. 

“He lied Thorin, I swear to you that I saw them not an hour ago more than 4 levels above where we are now grumpily eating their own rations in their cells. They are alive Thorin, we’re all alive.” In retrospect Bilbo should have expected it when Thorin threw his arms around the Hobbit and pulled him into a crushing hug, it certainly wasn’t the most elegant of embraces considering the horrors and lack of hygiene from the last few weeks but after said weeks Bilbo found himself instinctively hugging the Dwarf back and relishing the contact as never before. 

They stayed like that so long that Bilbo didn’t realise he’d fallen asleep until Thorin was gently shaking him awake. 

“I suggest you use whatever Hobbity tricks you have up your sleeve, Thranduil’s brat is coming again.” With a groggy nod Bilbo slipped on his ring and slid to the far side of the cell to wait, even in his drowsy state he could tell he’d slept better and more deeply than he had in weeks while curled in Thorin’s arms. Bilbo planned to get in as much sleep as possible before slipping back out, now that he’d found Thorin he’d need to fulfil his promise and find them a way out. 

Thorin slipped back into his corner as the key turned and appeared to curl into himself as Legolas entered with another tray, this one holding warm apple porridge by the smell in a surprisingly large bowl. 

“Master Dwarf, I must insist that you eat…” he lamented as he placed the tray within Thorin’s chained reach and removed the untouched one from the night prior.

“For what purpose? Your father is yet again responsible for the suffering of my people and you wish me to survive to grieve them indefinitely?” Thorin ground out, rage filling his voice as he lashed out at the young Elf Prince but the Elf only sighed sadly and left the cell with the dinner tray which was suddenly missing its bread. 

“Eat Master Dwarf, you never know what fate has in store for you…” 

As soon as the Elf was out of ear shot Bilbo reappeared in his corner and returned to Thorin breaking the bread in half and shoving it into Thorin’s hand. “Fate has in store a grand escape plan so eat up…” Bilbo mumbled around his own bread as Thorin nodded and nibbled on his portion. 

They shared the large portion of porridge, stomachs growling in unified appreciation, and then Bilbo took another nap as Thorin watched over him. Bilbo knew he should be embarrassed about using the King as a blanket before and now as a lap pillow but he was too weary to care anymore and the Dwarf didn’t seem to mind as he carelessly stroked his fingers through Bilbo’s filthy and unruly curls while humming softly to himself. 

When Bilbo next woke, thoroughly rested and feeling better than he had in weeks he offered to watch over the Dwarf to return the favour. Bilbo didn’t have long to ponder Thorin’s almost wistful refusal before another guard arrived with the King’s next meal, it seemed Bilbo was sleeping a lot longer than he realised. Bilbo slipped out of the cell as the Elf was collecting the empty breakfast bowl, she seemed so surprised to see the food gone that she didn’t notice when half the loaf of bread and the apple from the new tray disappeared or Thorin’s barely there grin when he noticed half his meal leaving the cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Thorin can be less of a Butt when he wants too...? I hope this starts to make up for what I've done to those of you who've read Torn... 
> 
> Also I'm running a reader Poll, I am currently stuck in Erebor with Smaug who is also being a Butt... I giant Butt with wings!   
> How would you like to see the Erebor fiasco end?
> 
> A. Cannon - Gold sickness, Burn Laketown, kill the dragon blah blah blah  
> B. Kill the beast but save the people - AKA the Dwarves find some way to actually slay Smaug  
> C. Wait for reinforcements - Thorin's original plan, get the arkenstone and wait for dain  
> D. Some kind of alliance with Smaug  
> E. Smaug is actually a cutie pie but lonely and wants cuddles.  
> F.... Dragon relocation program  
> G. Other... please specify... 
> 
> Thanks in advance for your help! <3


	20. Waterlogged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ORI!

*Ori Interlude*

Ori was beginning to hate the water; he’d never been a great fan to begin with but after Bilbo almost died in Rivendell and Bombur had fallen into an almost endless sleep in Mirkwood the young Dwarf had made a habit of avoiding it. Now however he was floating, rather haphazardly down a river in a questionably sturdy barrel of all things! Ori had balked when Bilbo had presented them with his escape plan but after the weary and sickly looking Hobbit had explained it was the only way none of the Dwarrow had the heart to argue, it was clear that their stay in the cells had been hardest on Bilbo and Thorin but it was not to be mentioned out loud. 

Luckily, around the time they hit the rapids, the Dwarrow were able to begin opening the lids of their barrels but this only made Ori hate the blasted things even more as they became aware of their Burglar holding rather haphazardly to one of the barrels, luckily it was Dwalin’s and the large Dwarrow wrapped an arm around the small Hobbit to keep him from dropping into the water. 

Ori tried not to blush as he imaged switching places with the waterlogged Halfling just as Dwalin passed by Ori’s own barrel and deposited the shivering Hobbit inside. 

“Look after out fool Hobbit will you Ori, don’t want a repeat of Rivendell. Blasted Elves keep trying to drown our Burglar…” Using Ori’s barrel to propel his own forward the large warrior caught up with Thorin’s barrel in the lead, they conversed in near silence for a few minutes while looking back towards the company. Ori did his best to watch them while appearing not to while Bilbo just dripped in the barrel, the young Dwarrow took off his own jacket and wrapped it around the soggy Hobbit but even as he did so the familiar weight of Nori’s coat was wrapped around his own shoulders… brothers! 

After a few more minutes of barrel travel Thorin gave the order to close ranks, they did so as a bend in the river presented itself and began unceremoniously tipping themselves out of their barrels. Ori apologied to Bilbo as hi tipped theirs and tried to keep the Hobbit afloat but he’d never before seen an object let alone a person who physically weighed More in the water. Ori lost his grip on the sinking Halfling but was saved by twin halos of blonde and brown hair as Fili and Kili grabbed an arm each and hoisted the Hobbit to land. Ori found he respected Bifur’s strength even more as he pulled himself out of the water, in Rivendell the elder Dwarrow had pulled the Hobbit out alone when Ori could barely keep his grip. Ori collapsed on the pebbled riverbank as he watched the others crawl out of the water and do much the same, Fili and Kili were patting Bilbo on the back as the Hobbit coughed out river water and shivered from cold. 

When Ori found the energy he began emptying his boots of water and wringing out his knitwear, even as he heard a thump of a body sitting beside him. Ori expected one of his brothers, Dori most likely, but when the young Dwarrow looked up he saw Mister Dwalin sitting beside him wringing out his beard. 

“Good looking out for the Hobbit, knew I could count on you…” If it had come from anyone else Ori would have suspected sarcasm but instead he merely blushed to the tips of his ears and focused back onto his waterlogged clothing with a small smile. 

Perhaps he didn’t hate the water so much after all.


	21. Always watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin gets to speak AT LAST!

(In lake town – Thorin’s turn!) 

There are certain parts of this quest that Thorin dearly hoped Ori and Balin chose to omit from their formal re-telling. The incident with the trolls was one, Rivendell of course, the barrels was another and definitely anything to do with Laketown. The smuggling, the toilet incident, pandering to the Master of Laketown and everything regarding the Hobbit. Thorin would have had them on their way already if it weren’t for the blasted Halfling; the small, vulnerable creature lying before him burning with fever and muttering deliriously. 

Thorin sat in his chair by the hearth and watched the curious creature toss and turn, it was now the third night of his Hobbit vigil and they were all waiting for Bilbo’s fever to break. While watching the smallest member of their company Thorin had been allowing himself some time to think, after all time was something he had an abundance of. From the moment he met the Halfling he’d been aware of a certain pull, something which didn’t seem quite right about the Hobbit. At first he’d approached it in his usual way, with suspicion and scorn but the Hobbit didn’t cower from him as Thorin had expected. No, Bilbo had integrated himself into the company, had made himself a fixture and endeared himself over the months to all of them. 

Bilbo was an anomaly and Thorin himself knew something of being irregularity amongst ones people. As much as Thorin should be loath to admit the Dwarrow felt indebted to the Hobbit not only for saving his life but for saving his mind in Mirkwood. Thorin had been closer to giving up than he was ready to admit, being told that his company was gone, that he was responsible for the deaths of his nephews was more than the usually proud Dwarrow could bear. Seeing Bilbo, as worn and haggard as he had been, had felt like a dream at first but the news he brought had been enough to save Thorin from his demons… if only for a little while. 

As he did now, Thorin had watched Bilbo then and contemplated the Hobbit. He was a mystery that the Dwarf could not unravel but Thorin found himself enjoying watching the Hobbit sleep, had for months now. Bilbo was a very expressive dreamer, Thorin found himself able to tell the difference between a good dream and something much darker. While on the journey Thorin had tried to ignore those times but then suddenly they stopped, it was almost as though the Hobbit stopped dreaming all together after they were saved by the eagles and yet he did not rest well. The dreams were back now but as his fever raged so did the Hobbit’s nightmares, when they became too distressing for the Halfling Thorin found himself giving in to temptation and though he knew he shouldn’t the Dwarrow sat on the edge of the overly large human bed and found himself stroking Bilbo’s sweat dampened hair until the Hobbit settled. 

He knew that such liberties were inappropriate but watching the Hobbit suffer was no longer something Thorin had within him, especially when the Halfling began calling out for his mother and Thorin began to wonder just how young their Burglar was and why he’d been so easily tempted into leaving his empty home.

Thorin was stroking Bilbo’s hair even as the sun began to rise in the horizon marking the fourth day of Bilbo’s illness, as with every morning there was a brief knocking at the door before Oin entered to check on the Hobbit. The healer merely lifted a brow at Thorin’s position but went about his work, seeing the Hobbit calm for once in the morning was apparently enough to allow the older Dwarrow to ignore the inappropriateness of Thorin’s closeness. 

“Are ye’ getting any rest ye’ self laddy?” Oin questioned as he packed up his equipment, clearly frustrated with Bilbo’s lack of change. 

“As much as ever” Thorin offered with a shrug as the gruff healer left with a nod, shuffling passed Dwalin who was waiting in the doorway. He dropped into Thorin’s empty chair, making the brittle wood groan. 

“So bugger all basically” Thorin shot his long-time friend and guard a warning glare, but as usually it had no effect on the tattooed fool before him. “How long do you think you can keep it from them?”

“I’ve managed fine so far” Thorin looked at the softly wheezing, red faced Hobbit who now slept soundly beneath his absent fingers.

“Oh aye, everyone just thinks ye’ don’t sleep much and it makes you a prickly ol’ bastard. Luckily those boys o’ yours are a bit thick anyway but Fili’s nearing the age too. What are you going to do if he starts?” Dwalin offered lounging back and throwing his feet up on a nearby table.

“Don’t even jest; we’re still not sure how it all works or if it will even affect them. There’s no point worrying them over nothing, besides it’s not as though anything can be done.” Thorin kept his eyes on Bilbo’s face; it was easier than meeting the knowing eyes of his friend.

“Well what about the halfling then, when’re you gonna let him in on the secret?” Dwalin began cleaning his fingernails with a small knife

“And exactly what interest would the Hobbit have in my sleeping tendencies?” 

“You know damn well that’s no’ what I was talking about. In a few short days we’ll be headin’ home Thorin and we might no’ be sticking around for long. Is this a chance you wan’a miss and take with you inta the Halls?”

“I guess that explains your recent actions towards our young scribe, I wish you all the best in your endeavours in love my friend but we both know that is not what the Valar have in store for me…”

“We both know that you’re a stubborn arse…” Thorin felt his lips twitch at the familiar goading but let it slide. 

“Go find your scribe Dwalin, enjoy the reprieve while it lasts.”

Dwalin lumbered from his position and headed to the door pausing only a moment, “Tell him Thorin, you deserve some happiness.” 

Thorin didn’t look away from the resting Hobbit, the flushed cheeks and messy curls. Thorin believed he deserved a lot of things but he was not sure happiness made the list but perhaps he was wrong because as he was stroking those limp curls beautiful, if slightly clouded, green eyes fluttered open to look at him. Thorin was taken aback once more by the handsome creature before him as soft looking lips tilted upwards in a haphazard smile upon seeing Thorin. 

Bilbo’s lips began to move but the Dwarf could barely make out what he was trying to say, Thorin leant forward and with the Hobbit’s lips next to his ear he listened and his breath hung on every syllable. The words were foreign to Thorin but they spoke to a part deep within him, a shiver ran down his spine as he realised he was listening to something he had no rights to and yet he could not move away as his Hobbit repeated those strange sounds, soft and lilting, until he fell asleep once more. 

Thorin looked down at the slumbering Hobbit and lent forward, with the barest of touches Thorin Oakenshield tapped his forehead to Bilbo’s before leaving the room for the first time in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that had been guessing, Yes it was Thorin all along!


	22. Chapter 22

Bilbo hated being sick, as a rule he refused to give in to any illness for the simple reason that when one is sick one is told to rest and to sleep. However as has long been established, sleep is anything but restful for the frustrated Hobbit. Sleeping non-stop meant dreaming non-stop, sick as he was Bilbo couldn’t locate his ring but even if he could the blasted thing didn’t allow him rest any more than the dreams did. 

Bilbo had been feeling the fever during their visit to Mirkwood; too little food, sleep or warmth was bound to take its toll but the Hobbit could not allow it to best him. The barrel incident was probably not his wisest move considering his fever and continued inability to swim but he had little choice. Bilbo had been amazed when icy water had given way to fresh air and the strong press of Dwarf against him as Derlin saved him yet again, Bilbo was far too indebted to the Dwarf for his Baggins sensibilities and the first chance he got Bilbo planned to bake his appreciation in cookie form. Bilbo had also planned to include some for Ori, the little Dwarf sharing his coat and still keeping Bilbo’s secret but then the scoundrel dunked him in the river again. After that things became a little more hazy, Bilbo remembered Fili and Kili dragging him from the river and hiding in a Barrel of fish for some reason. He couldn’t remember how they got to lake town but knew that was where he was but then the dreams started. 

Home where normal dreams of what was to come, since he was constantly sleeping and waking Bilbo saw many dreams but answered few but with each answer the Hobbit did give his fever rose. Then there were the fever dreams, yet another reason Bilbo hated illness. 

With all the Hobbit had seen his fever dreams went far beyond mere nightmares, the darkness tormented him and threatened to swallow him whole. This time however when he reached the distant light there was no singing man but bloody, lifeless bodies. Bodies of Hobbits and Dwarves alike, scared faces looked up at him blankly as Bilbo fought tears while looking at his own bloodied hands and Knowing this was his fault. Then he’d be back in Bag End, a labyrinth of tunnels and doors that lead nowhere. His mother calling him Bilbo would run but he could never reach her, never catch up but then he’d open a door and the Wargs would descend. Bilbo would watch Hobbiton devoured by snow and Wargs, his friends and family massacred by Orcs while Elves and Dwarves alike looked on and sneered at the gentle folk. 

But then those dreams would fade away and Bilbo would become aware of a presence with him, warmth beside him and sometimes the feeling of a hand stroking his brow and temples. It was never enough to wake him but the gentle touches could bring him from his night terrors. Confused and disorientated Bilbo began to live for those moments of peace when he’d feel that cool touch on his skin and everything else would fade away. 

In his fevered mind Bilbo thought he knew who sat with him, liked to think that he heard a familiar rumbling voice but that same fevered mind liked to image feelings beyond pity in those soft touches. 

Feelings which may match his own, feelings his feverish mind decided he should share. 

So when Bilbo finally opened his eyes and saw the object of his affection was indeed the one sitting with him through his illness the Hobbit could not hold back his words. He looked up into those perfect blue eyes and whispered the words which filled his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I have a beautiful font to show when Bilbo speaks in Soul-Words but it won't so soo grrrrr. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed


	23. Mountain Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild smut warning: AVERT YOUNG IMPRESSIONABLE EYES! 
> 
> I didn't mean to, the did it themselves!

Erebor changed everything Bilbo thought he knew about a great many things. From the moment he stood in the shadow of the great monolith Bilbo felt intense fear, as though the mountain was alive and waiting for them. After the incidents with the stone giants Bilbo felt very uneasy about entering the Lonely Mountain but then there was also the small issue of the Dragon. 

Bilbo also found his opinion of the company changing yet again, the closer the Dwarves got to Erebor the more sombre they became. Something Bilbo was not accustomed to but then he would chat a certain look in their eyes, especially in Thorin’s, and the small Hobbit would hold his tongue. It was as though they were entranced by the mountain and all Bilbo could feel was the icy chill of warning, it made him think of a creature he’d read of in his father’s books. A type of fish which lured smaller fish to it and while they were entranced it ate them, this was the feeling Bilbo got from Erebor but whether it was the Dragon, the Mountain or something else which gave him these feelings the Hobbit was unsure. 

Since recovering from his illness in Laketown and being filled in on the events he’d missed Bilbo’s dreams had come back into stark reality and yet he could not tell you what was to come. Bilbo hadn’t been asked any questions in days, not since leaving Laketown. All he saw in his dreams was the darkness slowly swallowing the company the fading away to reveal all of them dead, it was with this omen that Bilbo refused to sleep on the night before he was due to enter the mountain. It didn’t go unnoticed. 

“You should get what rest you can, tomorrow will be a trying day.” Thorin settled himself next to Bilbo, casually touching shoulders with the smaller male. 

“I don’t think sleeping would help, my dreams seem to be anything but restful of late” Bilbo sighed and leaned into Thorin’s shoulder slightly, he relaxed as the Dwarf did not push him away.

“It’s understandable to be nervous…” Bilbo shook his head with a sad smile. 

“What about you, why are you still up? Doesn’t a king need his majestic broody sleep?” Bilbo tossed with a smile, the snores of the rest of the company camped on the shelf making him feel at ease. 

“I am not tired, there will be plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” They fell into companionable silence for a while before Bilbo released a tired sigh. “Thorin, there’s something I want to talk to you about… since it might be my last chance…”

The Dwarf merely nodded, he did not even try to argue that they’d all live through this and that Smaug may well be dead already. This was a night for truth not false hope. 

“Thorin I…?” Bilbo faltered a moment, unsure of which secret he wanted to divulge if this was his last opportunity to speak freely with the Dwarf. Confess his oddity or his feelings? The decision was taken out of his hands as Thorin leant in a kissed him. 

The action was almost non-existent, just a feather light brushing of lips but Bilbo felt his heart stutter and just as Thorin’s form began to retreat Bilbo’s surged into action. Small Hobbit hands thrust into thick raven hair as Bilbo practically crawled into Throin’s lap, there was a desperate groaning but neither Hobbit nor Dwarf could pinpoint who’d released the sound as their lips joined together once more. There was little gentleness in this kiss, it was need and fear and longing as they finally acknowledged what had been sparking for months. Hands were everywhere, in hair, under clothes and running across warm, flushed skin only to be followed by equally curious lips. Where Thorin had started off hesitant he became bold in the light of Bilbo’s hushed yet wanton mewling. Bilbo who’d been starved for touch since the loss of his parents felt as though his skin was on fire, he was dizzy and his mind fuzzy but he loved every second of it. His fingers caressed every bit of Thorin then could reach and his lips locked around the Dwarf’s surprisingly sensitive earlobe. That was until Thorin tried to repay the favour, clearly not expecting the intense response he received. As Thorin’s teeth clamped gently around the tip of Bilbo’s pointed ear the Hobbit couldn’t hold back the desperate thrust of his hips, nor the abandoned cry which ripped from his throat. Thorin growled low in his own throat, sealing their lips together to silence his Hobbit as he mercilessly stroked and fondled the Hobbit’s ears while thrusting his own hips against Bilbo’s. 

Bilbo was almost crying with pleasure when his release hit him, Thorin following not long after. He held onto his Dwarf as the waves of intense pleasure took his breath away, leaving the Hobbit a gasping and panting mess in Thorin’s arms. When they were able to move the pair cleaned up as best they could and lay down together, no words exchanged between them but none were needed. Bilbo fell asleep in Thorin’s arms, no dreams able to plague him as his Dwarf watched over him all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's terrible, I haven't written anything remotely smutty in years... they just wouldn't keep it PG with the risk of dying and all...


	24. Of Dwarrow and Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo enters the mountain

Bilbo was woken by snickering of all things but even that was better than the usual arguing or haunting dreams. Bilbo stretched lazily as he took stock of where he was, then the reason for the snickering became apparent. Bilbo was snuggled rather tightly up against a broad, warm and achingly familiar chest while still wrapped in an equally warm and familiar cloak. Bilbo felt his cheeks and ears flush as he took note of the arms holding him close and his own arms tangled in hair that certainly wasn’t his. Just as Bilbo began his internal panic attack he felt the pressure of lips lingering against his forehead.

“Good morning,” whispered a husky voice as those lips moved to his ear and placed a feather light peck to the tip. Bilbo buried his face into Thorin’s chest to smother his surprised gasp but it only caused the chest before him to vibrate and rumble with quiet laughter. 

With his face tinged read with embarrassment Bilbo lifted his eyes to Thorin’s, “Good morning.” He replied just in time to have his lips stolen in a brief but searing kiss. 

Bilbo was left stunned as Thorin got to his feet and began Majestically ordering to Dwarves around, taking particular care to send his nephews aaaaall the way to the bottom of the staircase to check on the ponies. Bilbo grinned as the lads whined good naturedly but both shot Bilbo a smile and a wink before disappearing. Bilbo stretched again, memories of the night before flooding him. His shoulders and back were a little stiff but for all they’d slept on the hard rock he’d slept surprisingly well, no dreams had plagued him and despite the awkward feel of his poorly washed clothes Bilbo felt unusually relaxed and comfortable. 

Everything was going well until Bilbo realised what the sunrise meant as he looked towards the hidden door propped open with a stone, it had been decided that it was too dark for Bilbo to go in the night prior and the Hobbit was now grateful for the reprieve even as the fear remerged. Bilbo took a deep breath and while everyone was distracted he slipped through the small gap, he didn’t want a lengthy goodbye. 

Once in the dark tunnel Bilbo slipped on his ring, though he’d begun to hate using the trinket usually today it calmed him. The Hobbit reached out to touch the wall beside him to keep him grounded and followed the twists and turns in the dark while trying not to think of his Dwarrows discovering he’d slipped away or just how much he wanted to kiss Thorin again. The further Bilbo walked the warmer the tunnel became, he wasn’t sure if this was just how living in a mountain was or if it was thanks to the Fire Drake hidden within but he would place his money on the second. 

As he crept out of the Tunnel Bilbo followed the only light he could see until he found himself standing in what could only be described as a Hoard of gold. The light of it was almost blinding as Bilbo stared, he had no idea where the original light source came from but the reflection from so many immaculately polished gems and trinkets magnified it until the room was lit. Bilbo tried to hold his surprised gasp at the sheer enormity of the wealth he was seeing, Hobbits were not a materialistic people but even Bilbo could recognise that even his 14th share would be enough to buy the entire Shire ten times over with money left to rebuild it as he chose. For a moment, the darker side of the Hobbit considered it, buy the entire shire and mover everyone out then he’d never have to worry about dreaming again. However as quickly as the thought entered his mind he dismissed it, though he played with the idea of simply moving Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins out of the Shire instead as a compromise. Bilbo knew he never could but the thought gave him a small measure of pleasure, until he remembered that to get even a single coin of this treasure they’d first have to find a way of dealing with the dragon. 

A very large, very dangerous dragon which was currently missing. 

Bilbo knew that he what he was expected to find in the hoard, as much as being told he’d know when he found it helped, but seeing the treasure before him Bilbo wondered that Dragon or no if he’s ever be able to find the Arkenstone for Thorin. Though he should have worried more about seeing Thorin again than presenting him with a blasted stone as Bilbo found the Furnace-with-Wings himself or more to the point, Smaug found Bilbo as he rose from the very mountains of gold Bilbo had been standing on. 

“Well, thief, I smell you. I hear your breath. I feel your air. Where are you?” The great serpentine head and neck of Smaug turns and looks for Bilbo but the Hobbit is thankfully invisible, Bilbo sneaks behind one of the stone structures which remain in the hall using. 

“Come now, don’t be shy. Step into the light. Mmm, there is something about you, something which makes you Special…” Smaug has found him, Bilbo doesn’t know how but even being invisible is no use against the Fire Drake. Fear flood Bilbo as he removes the ring and steps out of hiding with as much false confidence as he can muster. 

“There you are, thief in the shadows.” Smaug purrs while observing Bilbo, the Hobbit tried not to shake as dread fills him. 

“I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug the Unassessably Wealthy. I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence, to see if you really were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them.” Bilbo offers hopping the tales of a Dragon’s vanity were not over exaggerated, luckily, they didn’t seem to be as Smaug seemed to preen before him before practically strutting around the chamber and displaying his entirety to Bilbo. 

“And, do you now?!!!” He called while striking a pose. 

“Truly, the tales and songs fall utterly short of your enormity, O Smaug the Stupendous.” Bilbo applauded the dragon and adopted a look of sheer wonder.

“Do you think flattery will keep you alive?” Smaug came close again “Because it just might… You seem familiar with my name, but I don’t remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, where do you come from, and why are you so very different, may I ask?”

“D…Different? There is nothing different about me oh Smaug” Bilbo stuttered even as Smaug came closer and sniffed him before pushing the Hobbit over with his large snout. 

“You cannot hide it from me little thief, I can sense these things it is what has given me such a large collection. Perhaps you shall join it if I like you enough now stop stalling. Answer my questions.”

“I am from Under the Hill, I am the Dream-walker…” Bilbo said solemnly but watched as a spark lit in the dragon’s feline like eyes as Bilbo remained still and sprawled on the gold beneath him. 

“Oh, a Dreamer, I haven’t met with a dreamer in centuries. I knew I sensed something different about you, hmmmm tell me little Dream-walker what have you seen of me and my mountain?” Smaug called seeming all too please and Bilbo realised that he had seen nothing of the mountain in any of his dreams despite being in just close proximity. 

“I can tell you nothing of the mountain Oh Smaug Chiefest of Calamities, my dreams could never amount to your brilliance.” At Bilbo’s words the Fire Drake let out a great booming laughter which seemed to shake the mountain. 

“Of course, have your snivelling Dwarves told you nothing as they hide outside?” Bilbo began to splutter but Smaug simply talked over him, “Dragons do not dream for we do not sleep, we rest but we never sleep little Dreamer. Just as that whelp Oakenshield has learnt, he should be feeling the strain by now of my gift to his line, tell me little Dreamer does the Filthy Dwarf Usurper miss his dream? Does he even remember them anymore? Ha!” Smaug began to laugh again, the room shaking and gold falling as the dragon took immense pleasure at Thorin’s expense. 

“By the look on your face little thing they have told you nothing, poor little dreamer brought as sacrifice to the Greatest of Fire Drakes without so much as an explanation. Of Course your Dwarves hope to steal my treasure, my beautiful collection for their own but your Oakenshield hope to kill me to save himself. For trespassing into my collection I took the ability to dream from the Thor and his heir, if my information has served me well the lack drove his equally filthy spawn to death and it’s taking it’s tole on the mind of Oakenshield also. I hear he hopes my death will see the end of his suffering but he is so very wrong, my gift ends only with the end of their line.” Suddenly everything made sense to Bilbo, why Thorin always seemed the first one awake and the one with the longest watch. Why he never dreamt of the Dwarf and why in his arms he too was released from his dreams but suddenly he felt fear thinking of Fili and Kili and whether they would be spared from such a curse? 

“What incredible magic you must poses oh Smaug the stupendous! How does it work?”

“Indeed, I am powerful and incredible, do you want me to take your dreams away too little one? I can but you’d have to give me something in return…”

“Is it possible? But what of my kin? Would they be effected?” 

The dragon hummed and chuckled before settling down in his gold blowing smoke rings at the burglar, Bilbo simply tried to look eager and be thankful he wasn’t yet roasted to a crisp. 

“It really depends on what I wish; the Dwarves for example I chose to effect only those of Thor’s line who believed themselves Kings of my Treasure. I could do something different but I think I will keep you as you are, it will be easier to get information from a dreamer than from the Thrush.” Bilbo looked stunned, he was apparently to be pet to a dragon. 

X~X~X~X~X

 

“He’s been gone too long…” Balin fretted, putting voice to everyone’s fear. 

Thorin looked around their small camp and back to the once hidden door, Bilbo had slipped away soon after waking that morning but now it was close to dusk and the Hobbit had yet to reappear. The company had felt the vibrations throughout the mountain which could only have come from Smaug but none wished to voice the fear that their Hobbit was gone.

“Bilbo probably has a plan, he always seems to. If we go in now we may well ruin everything, we’ll give him until dawn and then decide on our course of action. Try and rest” Thorin announce but settled himself by the tunnel entrance anyway, if he couldn’t sleep at least he could listen for their Hobbit.


	25. Dealing with a Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get a chapter, and you get a chapter! Everyone gets a chapter!!!! 
> 
> Thanks to all the Kudos and comments, which finally gave me the kickstart I needed to get the ending started I am currently writing the last chapter! OMG!
> 
> This fic has been in my head and in progress for about 2-3 years even though I only started posting it recently, thank you all for sticking with me through it! You are amazing! I need you to know this because I can count on one hand how many fics I have successfully completed and thanks to all of you we are so close to adding another one! So enjoy!

“Oh Bilbo, what have you done? My poor sweet child, this was never to be your fate but I suppose that’s why you were given free will.” Bilbo opened his eyes slowly and with a smile he greeted the Green Lady but she would not return his gesture. She turned her back on the Hobbit, the first time she had ever done so. 

“You cannot die here Bilbo Baggins, you are still needed in Middle Earth. Your true destiny, hard though we both know it will be, has yet to be fulfilled and yet here we are. The darkness is coming Bilbo, you have been dreaming of it for months now and it is almost here. Prepare yourself, lives will be lost in the coming days and choices will need to be made. My dear sweet Bilbo, I am sorry” The Green lady turned back to the confused Hobbit and he saw tears in her eyes, slowly she leant down and kissed his brow as horrible images invaded his mind. 

Bilbo fell to his knees the image of Yavanna fading to be replaced with the terrible darkness which was only broken by images of bloodshed. Bilbo watched as Smaug ripped him apart and then moved on to the Dwarves, the images faded to be replaced by the Drake ignoring Bilbo entirely and hunting out the Dwarves so he could burn them alive, next it was Laketown and Bilbo watched it burn. He watched Bard try to fire a Black arrow before he too was struck down and his children devoured. Bilbo saw several saws the Dwarves tried to kill Smaug but with no affect, then he saw Bard kill the beast as the town burned yet again. Bilbo watched as the Dwarves reclaimed their mountain only to starve to death within it, he watched Thorin find the Arkenstone and fall to madness killing his kin and company to keep it, Bilbo watched the mountain besieged by Men and Elves, the Orcs and Goblins. War after war and death beyond his worst nightmares and he knew these futures were still in flux. As the Mother had said, decisions still need to be made and the future is not yet set but death is now inevitable. 

Bilbo cried as death overwhelmed his mind and he woke still sobbing on a warmed bed of gold within the confining talons of the Dragon. 

“What did you see Dream-Walker? What did you SEE?” The drake demanded, shaking Bilbo in his prison. The Hobbit looked up, tears streaming down his face and eyes devoid of hope. 

“Death, I saw nothing but death. Mine, yours and everything else. This mountain is nothing but a curse.” The angered roar Smaug released was more than enough to shake the mountain and the Dwarves still camped outside, it was enough to reach all the way to Laketown because just as Smaug could sense treasure he could sense lies and his latest pet was indeed telling the truth. 

Death was coming. 

 

X~X~X~X

*Back on the edge of the mountain*

It had been some time since the great roar of the Fire Drake had woken the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, with the exception of the missing Hobbit and their always restless leader, they’d packed quickly and prepared to storm the mountain in hopes of saving their Hobbit or at least recovering his remains. Of the Company, it seemed to be young Ori who was taking the possible loss the hardest, followed closely by the emotionally constipated Heirs of Durin, but all Dwarrows were worried for their small friend. That was until he stepped calmly through the tunnel and gave them all the fright of their lives. 

Ori detached from his brothers and threw himself at Bilbo, hugging the Hobbit close and muttering nonsense at him but surprisingly the Hobbit did not respond. Bilbo did not push the young Dwarf away but nor did he embrace him comfortingly as he’d been known to do. The Burglar simply stood there, head downcast and eyes vacant. Bofur edged close and wrapped a shoulder around the younger Dwarf before handing him to a waiting Dwalin as he tried to get his friend’s attention. 

“Bilbo lad, are ye’ alright? Had us worried sick what with that loud carry-on in there, we were about to come in after ye’.” Bilbo raised his head slightly to look at the Dwarf but his expression didn’t change as tears began to flow from his empty eyes. 

“A Bargain has been struck” The voice which came from the Hobbit was not that of the Bilbo they knew. “A treasure of greater wealth has been offered and accepted.” Out of his pocket Bilbo withdrew the Arkenstone and offered it to Thorin. 

“What kind of bargain, what have you done to our Burglar?” Thorin called stepping forward to address the hollow Bilbo.

“You may have your Arkenstone and your accursed mountain back, I will keep my collection and find a new abode. The smell of Dwarf was beginning to bother me anyway.”

“Why would you do such a thing and What have you done to our Hobbit?” 

“Oooh Hobbit, is that what it’s called? I will remember that. I have traded your Arkenstone, your mountain and your Lives to the Dream-walker in exchange for his Life and forewarning. However part of the bargain is to allow the creature 5minutes to say his farewells, use them wisely and know I will be listening.” With that the vacant expression faded from Bilbo’s face and the tears began anew. 

“Take the Arkenstone and leave the mountain,” Bilbo cried as he thrust the blasted stone into Thorin’s hands “Abandon this cursed mountain for all that awaits you here is death. Azog has assembled and Army to take your head, if you do not make peace with the Elves and Men you may end up fighting them as well. I have seen it Thorin, I must DO something. I cannot save you from Azog but I can warn you and I can save your from Smaug, if you fight this war it will not simply be your life that is forfeit but the entire company.”

“What are you saying Bilbo? You’re speaking nonsense, what kind of deal have you made with the beast?” Thorin ignored the Arkenstone, just for a moment, and grabbed Bilbo’s arms to shake him slightly. 

“I have offered my life in exchange for a chance to save yours, with the Arkenstone you are King and your kin will help you but abandon Erebor I beg of you…” Consciousness melted away from the Hobbit and again he was vacant, Thorin released him as though he’d been burned.

“Hold on, that was not 5minutes…” Kili called out, tears of his own falling now. 

“Hmph, the warning was the promise not the time. The bargain is fulfilled.” Carelessly the Arkenstone was dropped to the ground with a resounding tole as the controlled Hobbit returned to the tunnel, the Dwarves too stunned to attempt to stop him. 

“We must find a way to break this deal Uncle,” Fili spoke as he retrieved the Arkenstone, addressing his stunned kin. “We must save Bilbo.” There was a few ‘Aye’s from the surrounding Dwarrow but Thorin shook his head.

“You heard him, he did this of his own free will. We have the Arkenstone now and as soon as the Drake leaves we will have our home. Armies can come if the like but once we send for Dain and fortify the defences we will endure; the Hobbit has done us a great service and will be remembered for it.” 

“Thorin you can’t be serious” Balin’s voice echoed the discord amongst the Dwarrow at this response. 

“We have what we came for with minimal casualties, I am perfectly serious Balin.”

“Bilbo is not a Casualty! He is alive and… and… sacrificing himself for us, how can we do nothing?” Ori called out as Dori tried to shush him. “No, I will not be silent! Bilbo needs us, he has always been there for us, more than any of us ever knew but now you plan to abandon him?”

“There is nothing to be done” Thorin shook his head, it was sad but what was done was done. 

“Does it not seem strange to you that the Dragon would trade the Arkenstone and the Mountain for the life of one little Hobbit?” Nori pondered aloud which had everyone turning to face the professional thief, “I mean, think about it. He even allowed him to warn us of dangers approaching that neither he nor Smaug should know of, convinces a dragon to leave his hoard and return part of it… either this is some very elaborate trap on Smaug’s part or there is more to our Hobbit than meets the eye.”

As he finished speaking there was a great sound of stone shaking and crumbling followed by a great wind, finally the Company of Thorin Oakenshield got their first look at the treasure of Erebor and the Fire Drake which hoarded it as he broke free of the mountain and began circling it. Along Smaug’s scales where gems of every kind sparkling in the sun, upon his great back were chests and containers overflowing with treasures and sitting astride his long serpentine neck was a single, dazed and vacant Hobbit. 

After circling the mountain Smaug turned South and began towards the Mount Doom, a fitting place for a Fire Drake, with his collection of treasures. The Dwarves watches for as long as they could before one by one the lost sight of their Hobbit and fell into confused silence, all bar three. 

“Uncle, good luck with Erebor but Kili and I are going to get Bilbo back.” Fili gave Thorin a respectful bow before turning to his brother with a nod. 

“Don’t think you’re leaving without me,” Ori shouted jumping to his feet and wriggling out of Dori’s protective grasp.

“Ori sit back down, I know you like Bilbo but he made his choice.” Dori tried again to grab his little brother

“No Dori, I owe it to Bilbo to go after him. He wasn’t meant to fall off the edge of the path in Goblin Town, I was. Bilbo pushed me out of the way and fell himself. Bilbo wasn’t the one supposed to get threatened by the Trolls, Kili was but he stepped in again. Kili was supposed to be injured in the Barrel rides but instead Bilbo got sick. Lord Elrond’s youngest charge was supposed to die the say Bifur pulled Bilbo from the water in Rivendell but he was spared. Bilbo has been suffering for us on this journey, sacrificing himself every step of the way. I will not abandon him as he does so again.” 

“Ori, I understand you’re feeling guilty but you’re talking nonsense!” Dori began but Fili and Kili stood either side of their young friend, other members of the company looking at the trio with concern and others with surprise. 

“It’s true Dori,” Kili piped up “Bilbo is special and while we can’t explain it well Smaug seems to have found out.” 

“Bilbo can see parts of the future and change them somehow, step in the way of people getting hurt. It all happens while he’s asleep, that why Smaug called him a Dream-walker.” Fili added

“We’ve known since Rivendell, Lord Elrond confirmed it while Bilbo was sick and we were eavesdropping in the healing halls.” Kili offered a little sheepishly at his Uncle’s stern look. 

“Bilbo’s been sharing some of his stories about how it works with me for months, he doesn’t like to talk about it but I’ve managed to get a firm grasp. I think Smaug has taken him for his ability to dream and remember, so he can be warned of the future. Why else would he leave? Thirteen Dwarrow and a Hobbit are hardly a threat.”

“Enough!” Thorin roared, his mind reeling with this information and Elrond hinting to him back in Rivendell. “We need time to process and a night’s decent rest. We cannot hope to match a Fire Drake for distance or speed but perhaps we can discuss the matter more as we take stock of the mountain, perhaps the Wyrm has left us something to work with.” The others nodded and the three youngest were urged to follow their elders into the mountain, Smaug left in a hurry so along with many years’ worth of damage he’d also left a substantial amount of his hoard behind. That evening the Dwarves managed very little planning as they revelled in their riches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH NO!!!
> 
> And with only four chapters to go... what will become of our poor Hobbit? 
> 
> Will the Dwarves fall to gold sickness even ad Smaug flies further away... tune in next week to find out!
> 
> (Well more likely in a day or two because I have no self control and your reactions make me smile like stupid!)


	26. Tainted Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug discovers Bilbo's Ring

As the arrived at the base of Mount Doom Bilbo was lowered to the ground with the other treasures Smaug had brought, the very ground beneath the Hobbit’s feet was warm to the touch and as he sat down to wait Bilbo found his fingers drawn to his golden ring. As Bilbo touched the Trinket however he felt as though he’d been burned, an image of an eye entering his mind and pain erupting through him. Bilbo tried to cry out as his breath left him and his body writhed in pain, until the shadow of Smaug fell over him and the image faded away. 

“Oh hoho! My little Dream walker has more than one secret it seems, tell me Hobbit where you found such a deceitful bauble. Does it call to you? Whisper in your ear? Has it yet to poison your mind with doubts and anger?” Smaug looked at the breathless panting creature and chuckled, no the Ring had yet to find its full hold in this dreamer, the selfless twit was too pure to be corrupted easily. It would take years to fully take over the Hobbit’s mind but that would mean sharing and Smaug was not prepared to so that. 

Besides Mountain Doom was a fitting home for a Fire Drake, Smaug had lived here briefly before but there were always pests running about looking for that blasted gold curse. As a Fire Drake, Smaug loved the warmth of the mountain. It was one of the things that drew him to Dwarves with their lovely large furnaces that warmed his belly in the night. If he planned to take over this mountain as his new nest Smaug would need to do something about that blasted bauble, or more to the point he’s need his new pet to do it.

“Tell me Dream Walker, I will trade you for your prize there. I have nicer rings in my collection, pick one and it is yours.”

Bilbo’s mind was still reeling as Smaug’s words began to register. “Why would you want it? It is simply a magic ring which turns me invisible, nothing like the power you hold.” Bilbo huffed as he struggled to sit up, hands staying away from his waistcoat pockets.

“I do not want it, I want the blasted thing thrown into the depths of the Mountain behind us. That foul thing leaves a taint in the air and I want it nowhere near me or my collection, you’re magic ring is made with Dark magic little Hobbit.” 

“And I should take your word on this?” Bilbo scoffed, dismissing the dragon’s desire as foolishness. 

“Poor little Dream-walker, you know so much and yet so little.” The dragon settled in and nudged Bilbo with his snout again. “Dragons are neither good nor evil, we simply are. Our magic is that of the earth and air, it can be harnessed for greatness but is without prejudice. We fight for what we want and what we need, never for politics or fun.” Smaug said smugly but Bilbo merely raised a brow. “Of course, sometimes we have fun doing what we must but our motives are not hidden, we need homes to house our ever-growing bodies, hoards and young. Since we cannot build them anymore we take them.”

“Why can you not build them? Where are the other dragons?” At the Hobbit’s question, there was a low whine. 

“Little thing, why do you think we have no love for the other creatures of middle earth? There are very few of my kind left in Middle Earth. Once we used to rule the skies and seas, my brethren were truly a sight to behold Dream Walker but the other creatures of the world became greedy as they always do. They craved our power and drew us into wars that were not our own, they’d steal our scales and murder us for our flesh to man weapons and armour. It was a slow massacre but none were innocent and none were spared.” Smaug blinked and a large crystalline tear drop fell from one large eye. “I was still young when I went to the Dwarf mountain, yet to be fully grown as I am now. I had lost my mate and sustained injury when an army of Dwarves raided our nest, they killed my mate and destroyed our eggs. Dwarves took my home and my love from me so I took theirs from them, now I am fully grown and again without a proper home or purpose.” 

Bilbo didn’t realise he was crying until Smaug’s rough serpentine tongue darted out to lick them from his cheek. 

“I will do as you ask and destroy my Ring on one condition…” Bilbo looked up at the Dragon, his mind made.

“Name your price Dream-Walker…”


	27. Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin takes his first steps as King

As much as they had intended to storm after their Hobbit and the Dragon it eventually hit the company that they had neither the supplies nor the transport to make such a long journey, not that they were even sure where Smaug had gone. Instead Thorin did the most sensible thing Balin could think of, the reinstated King Under the Mountain sent for help. 

Using the Ravens of old that still patrolled the mountain Thorin sent messages, some easier than others but all carrying a message the Dwarf was not used to expressing. 

The Dwarves began with their closest neighbour, as much as it grated, and requested an audience with their officials. As Girion’s heir that responsibility fell to Bard now that the Master of Laketown had prematurely evacuated the town and his post in anticipation of hellfire rained from above. Thranduil was not expected to show his face but the Dwarves did hope he sent his least annoying representative, though Balin forced Thorin to omit such a request. 

Then the ravens were sent further afield to older friends and allies, telling of the Dragon’s departure and the loss of their comrade Thorin sent his request for assistance to Dain and to the Elves of Rivendell as for all that they surely held no fondness for the Dwarves, if Ori was to be believed, they felt immense gratitude for the missing Hobbit. Thorin hoped that Elrond may be able to advise them of where to begin their search if nothing else. 

On their return flights, the ravens brought ill news of an oncoming army of Orcs and Goblins, Balin sent the out again with news to their neighbours warning of the threat while Thorin and the Brothers Ur set about reinforcing the defences of the mountain. Dwalin took the remainder of the company in search of supplies and weapons. 

Though they found supplies, weapons and armour as they hoped the Dwarves also found more fallen than they could count. Each time they opened a door, a cupboard or looked under a bed there was someone who’d perished while hiding or fighting the dragon. The women and children were the worst for the company to bear and so they gently lifted them if they could and moved them out of hiding until they could be returned to the stone. Each night that passed they would walk the winding tunnels down to the Halls of Waiting and take any bodies they’d found that day, they would sing soft songs of mourning as they did their best to lay their brethren to rest. 

Thorin would watch over the graves long after the others had returned to their beds, these were his people and he had failed to keep them safe. Just as he had failed to keep Bilbo safe. 

Thorin was unsurprised when he heard boots approaching sometime later, it was clearly Dwalin come to advise Thorin he’d spent another night brooding in the mausoleum as he had most every night since returning to the mountain. Only this time was different, this time he was early. 

“They’ve come Thorin, time for you to be King.” Thorin felt the shudder run through him, once this was all he’d ever wanted but that was all before copper curls and a selfless smile. 

“Mahal give me strength…” Thorin muttered as he turned to climb the steps with his friend

“It’s not strength you’ll be needing but patience, the King Tree-shagger himself is here with his offspring.”

“Just my luck.” 

The pair walked the remainder of the way in silence until they walked through the collection of Dwarrow breaking their fast, all suspiciously quiet, and through to the Gates of Erebor… or what remained of them. There stood Bard and a collection of aged humans and Thranduil with his son and surprisingly Elrond’s brats Sons.

Thorin gave them all a nod as he joined Balin who was greeting them with perfect diplomacy. 

“We’d invite you inside but as I’m sure you’ll understand there is nowhere fit for visitors at this stage, after a dragon’s rampage for so long…” Balin’s smile never faltered even as Elladan and Ellrohir bounded past him to step in time with Thorin and Dwalin. 

“Ah! Master Oakenshield, we’ve been waiting on you…” Began one, he wasn’t sure which

“Yes, our friend Legolas has something to return to you…” finished the other as both turned to face the now flushing Elf who it seemed was holding Orcrist. 

“We’ve explained the situation, to him and he’s very sorry.” Started the first again causing the blonde elf to flush further. 

“I am sure but please, to the matter at hand.” Thorin interrupted as he began to address the assembled group. “I hope that you have received my previous messages and understand the situation. We are faced with an unprecedented threat and I wish to propose an alliance to see all of our people through this. We have reliable information from multiple sources that an army of Orcs and Goblins are on their way to mountain, none of our people will see the end of this army unless we work together.” Thorin spoke to the leaders, mostly to Bard, but he watched the reactions around him. The humans were scared, as they ought to be, but the elves showed no reaction to this news. 

“This is quite a change in tone, I find myself questioning such a leap of faith. Where has this information and desire for alliance come from…” Thranduil managed to sound both bored and scathingly suspicious at the same time, part of Thorin wanted to hit the elf but the image of Bilbo begging him to make peace stayed his hand. 

“The fourteenth member of our company asked it of us, his last request before he traded his life to Smaug in return for ours and yours. The Fire Drake left Erebor behind with his hoard but took our comrade with him, we hope to see the end of this war to then attempt to rescue him. I will do anything it takes to see him safely returned to his home.” Elrond’s sons were looking at each other with sad eyes but stepped forward with a nod. 

“We’ll stand with you Master Oakenshield, we owe Master Bilbo an unpayable debt for saving our heart-brother’s life.” Thorin thought it was Ellrohir who said this but either way he accepted the offered hand and shook it. 

“We will take this information to the people of Laketown” Bard offered seriously, his voice deep with emotion. “But if what you say is true then we all owe our lives to your Hobbit. I cannot force anyone to fight but you will have volunteers from Laketown, I will stand beside you.”

“Thank you, Bard. We are still working to reinforce Erebor but her great hall is mostly intact, if any of your people wish to wait out the battle off the lake we will open our doors to you.” Bard nodded seriously and then all eyes turned to the silent Thranduil.

“Come Legolas, this is not our fight.” Thorin tried to temper his anger as again Thranduil turned from Erebor when her people called on him for aid, when Thorin called for aid. 

“No father.”

Thranduil spun so fast that Thorin wasn’t sure he saw the elf move only than now we was facing his son, face contorted in anger. “Do not do this Legolas, you will return to Greenwood with me now.”

“No father.” The young elf stepped forward to stand beside his Rivendell fellows. “We cannot hold on to old grudges forever, besides this army poses a threat to our home also. It is time to act” Legolas handed Thorin Orcist.

“Do as you wish…” Thranduil strode away and toward his elk but Thorin could see familiar lines of tension in his frame, lines he recognised from his sister’s form as she watched her sons leave with Thorin. This was a great blow to Thranduil and if Dis was any indication the Elf would be back to protect his child, if no one else. 

X~X~X

Thorin loved it when he was right, later that afternoon a team of elven healers arrived to assist with the oncoming battle with a squad of stone-faced archers. By which time Kili was already grilling Legolas about archery and Fili was sparring with Elladan while his brother hovered. Thorin nodded they continued with their preparations, if the Ravens were correct they’d have only a few days before hell broke loose.


	28. To War!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOPS! Posted Chapter 27 again, fixed now!

Thorin’s call for assistance had greater impact than the Dwarf King had first anticipated, not only did they have the reluctantly given assistance of the Mirkwood Elves and more volunteers from Lake town than they knew what to do with but Dain arrived with a horde of Dwarven warriors and one Grey Wizard. By this point Thorin was both pleased to see Gandalf and dreading explaining their lack of Hobbit but the elder simply gave Thorin a sad smile as though he’d expected it all along, which Thorin began to think he just may have. 

They began by fitting the men of Laketown with what armour and weaponry they could find that would fit them and teaming them with the more experienced fighters. Bard and his bowmen trained with the Elves for what time they could, the Dwarrow took the rest to spar. Thorin looked at the fragile humans and saw again copper curls and large feet, once he would have scorned these people for being weak but now he respected them for their courage. They knew they were weak, they knew they were inexperienced and they knew that in all likelihood they would die here and yet here they stood to defend their homes and loved ones.

Thorn turned away from the training, he ignored Oin arguing with the elven healers about the best placement for the medical tents and he focused on the matter at hand. Thorin, Dwalin, Dain, Gandalf and Legolas were planning the distribution of troops to best utilise their strengths. Even as they discussed Thorin struggled to keep his mind on the task at hand, his thoughts straying to his missing Hobbit and how much the gentle halfling had changed him. How differently this battle could have gone if they’d simply ousted the dragon to wreak havoc where it pleased and lost themselves in riches until the Orcs came knocking. He thought of the Arkenstone, sitting unwatched on the tomb of his great-grandfather and of the peaceful alliance they currently had, all of which would not be possible without Bilbo Baggins and in that moment, even as the horns sounded to signal the approaching enemy, Thorin swore he would find a way to rescue Bilbo or to avenge him. 

The battle went as one might have expected, at least if they knew what motivated the armies which fought. The Elves gave impeccable aerial support from the battlements of Erebor, decimating the goblin ranks as the orcs sent them. The Dwarves and Men were intermixed to provide as much support for each other as possible, the ranks didn’t hold long once the fighting was underway but the borrowed armour and minimal training was more than they would have had otherwise. Thorin fought with Dwalin, his shield brother in this and many other battles but he tried to keep his eyes on the rest of the company. It was in doing this that he saw his nephews fighting alongside Elrond’s sons and Legolas shielding Gloin from harm as the older Dwarrow carried an injured man to his brother in the healing tents. 

The battle was holding, neither side taking control or backing down. Even as Gandalf’s reinforcements arrived in the form of Beorn and the Eagles the tide of enemies seemed never ending. That was at least until the ground beneath them began to vibrate and for a moment the battle stood still, all eyes turned South and a great cloud of ash could be seen erupting into the air. The Orcs and Goblins began to screech and fall back, the company tried not to focus on a small Hobbit that would be far too close to such an explosion, the Elves felt a shudder move through them and Gandalf stood still with his eyes wide and his ancient heart breaking. 

From there the battle ended quickly, Azog was beheaded by none other than Dain while the company turned their thoughts to bringing the injured to the healing tents. Like this they kept themselves busy for days, transporting the injured and the passed, burning the filth left by the Orc and not once mentioning their missing Hobbit even as Gandalf disappeared to wherever confounded Wizards went on the backs of eagles. 

Thorin thanked those that came to their aid, as was his duty as King, and with Balin at his side they drafted and signed peaceful treaties. The Dwarves made gifts to their comrades from what remained of the dragon’s hoard, nothing of cultural significance but enough to say thank you for assistance lent and a gift of good faith for times to come. Thorin made sure to gift Bard some extra towards the rebuilding of Dale and Bifur snuck him some freshly carved toys for his children. To Legolas Thorin gave a special gift, a box of gems hidden away in the treasury that had always been meant for his father. Elladan and Ellrohir would accept nothing from Thorin but the promise that when it came time to search out their Hobbit the pair would be allowed to accompany them, the elven lads maintained that such a sturdy creature as Bilbo would not perish so easily but there was a sadness in their eyes which gave the Dwarf pause as he promised. 

And so time moved on, days became weeks and weeks became months. There was talk amongst the Ravens of a Dragon being spotted heading west but there was no confirmation it was Smaug and no news of a wayward Hobbit. The Dwarves of Erebor began to return and with them came Thorin’s sister, months became years and still there was no news. 

After the third anniversary of the battle Thorin was forced to face the fact that Smaug was gone and Bilbo was dead. Heart aching the King planned a final journey, he felt he owed it to their Hobbit to return to the Shire and share his noble demise with his kin. The company refused to be left behind and as promised Thorin notified the Elves of Rivendell, this time they were expected when they came through the gates. This was a very different journey but around each corner were memories, Elrond said nothing but simply offered Thorin an understanding nod. 

Thorin felt it best he made the final trek to the Shire alone, best not to spook the Hobbits a second time with a large company of Dwarrow descending on Bag End. He expected the home to be lived in by some relative or other by now so as he walked up a long winding road he was not surprised by the cheery lights in the night. 

As he knocked on the familiar green door, Burglar for Hire still scratched in the front, Thorin tried to look as approachable as he could but found his breath leaving him when the door opened to familiar green eyes and copper curls. 

“Well it took you long enough…”


	29. The choices we make define us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter... OMG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm supposed to do cliffhangers and suspense but I hate being left hanging and I love you all too much to do that to you So enjoy your Last Chapter of Bad Luck Bilbo!

Thorin could have stood on that threshold for a year unmoving while staring at the smug little grin, would have done so happily if it meant he didn’t have to wake up from this dream but the Hobbit before him was not about to let that happen. Before Thorin knew what was happening he was being tugged inside, the door closing behind him and then arms wrapping around him. This was more than Thorin had ever dared hope for, his arms wrapped tightly around a healthily soft Hobbit as he buried his face into those sinful copper curls. His throat constricted even as he took in deep lungful’s of air.

“How?” was all he managed to croak but Bilbo simply snuggled in closer with a muttered “later” 

Thorin wasn’t about to press the issue but he felt Bilbo suddenly sag in his arms and groan even as the sound of pittering pattering footfall and a call of “Da!” reached his ears. Bilbo slipped out of Thorin’s arms in time to sweep a little tot of a Hobbit off the ground and into his awaiting arms. The lad had jet black hair and the bluest of eyes, he was smaller than Thorin had ever seen a child including his two nephews. 

“Frodo my lad, this is King Thorin the Dwarf from my stories.” The child’s eyes grew impossibly larger and he attempted an awkward bow in Bilbo’s arms, almost falling out of them entirely, before giving the Dwarf a beaming smile. 

“Da said you’d come, that you were just lost is all!” The lad bounced excitedly, “I’ll go tell Mau” The boy demanded to be put down and like that he was gone and Bilbo was left chuckling. 

“He’s my adopted son, technically by blood we are cousins. Come in and sit down Thorin, we have a lot to discuss.” Thorin followed Bilbo mechanically and was guided to a chair, before he knew it there was a rather large mug of ale in his shaking hands and a cup of tea in Bilbo’s as he sat across from him. 

“Where shall we start?” Bilbo sighed

“You’re alive?” Thorin muttered, his ale as yet untouched. 

“I am.” 

“You have a son…”

“I do.”

“But How?” Thorin yearned to reach out for Bilbo, to cast away his confusion and embrace his Hobbit but he was still not sure this was happening. 

“I have a son because his parents passed away while I was gone, he needed a family and I needed a purpose again. I am alive because Smaug wishes I remain so, for whatever reason suits him.” Thorin was on his feet in an instant.

“The Beast is still alive?” Thorin was ready to draw his sword but paused at Bilbo’s sad smile. 

“Smaug is alive, he is here in the Shire and Frodo has gone to inform him of your arrival. Sit down Thorin, I told you we have much to discuss.” Thorin sat and drank a large portion of his ale before the Hobbit continued talking. 

“You know that I made a deal with Smaug at Erebor, I am glad that you took my warning seriously. I had always wondered if you’d made it but that is a story for later I think. I do not know how much you know by now but I had something Smaug wanted, a gift that made it possible for me to know when bad things were going to happen to people and in some cases prevent them. This was something Smaug wanted and I bartered the mountain and your lives for it. Smaug took me to Mount Doom, he was considering making that his home and there he told me a story.” Thorin nodded as Bilbo took a sip of his tea. 

“A long time ago Smaug was wronged by an army of Dwarves, that is why he came to Erebor.” Even as Thorin opened his mount to deny it and defend his people Bilbo shot him a look which called for silence. “He has since admitted that he does not know where the Dwarves who attacked him came from but considered them all the same, in his mind it was a fitting retaliation. This is also when we discovered I had something else of value, my magic ring which I used to sneak into your cell in Mirkwood with was more than what I thought. Smaug and I made another bargain; I destroyed my ring in the fires of Mount Doom and Smaug agreed to let me pick the location of his next nest.” Understanding was beginning to dawn and Thorin drained his glass.

“You picked the Shire?” He croaked

“I did. It is warm enough here, as we have short winters, to suit a Fire Drake. He hunts outside of the Shire, as he did in Erebor, mostly wolves and other pests which cause us havoc. The Hobbits assisted in building him a sheltered nest at the back of the Shire in the Old battle fields, he provides protection for the Shire and we supplement his appetite with Hobbit cooking. Hobbits have little interest in Gold so we feels little threat for his collection of treasures and the lump had been growing quite mellow over the last few years, he especially loves how the faunts adore him.”

“But why did you not tell us you were alive…?” Bilbo’s smile fell at the question. 

“Thorin, the last time I say you I said goodbye. The first and last time I dreamt of you and the company I watched you all die. I couldn’t bare the thought that if I wrote I would receive no reply, it was better to live a life waiting for hope to knock on my door then to give it up entirely. Besides, until I find something of greater value to the old slug my life still belongs to Smaug.”

“I heard that” came a voice from just outside the house and Bilbo watched Thorin jump in his chair. 

“You were supposed to. Frodo time for bed…”

“Awww but Da!” Young Frodo tottered in on wobbly legs even as Smaug nudged him along with his snout. Bilbo was instantly there to pick him up and began down one of the halls.

“Now you two play nice for 5 minutes.” 

Thorin looked at the Dragon and the Dragon looked at Thorin, the absurdity of the situation did not escape Thorin as his fingers twitched for his blade. Neither said anything until Bilbo returned. 

“Really? Silence? Well I suppose that’s better than fighting.

“What would it take for you to release Bilbo from his debt?” Thorin addressed the Dragon despite his desire to see it beheaded. 

“You think you have anything I could want? Foolish Dwarf, I have the life of a Dreamer and you have nothing.” Thorin could have expected almost any reaction from Bilbo, he did not however expect the Hobbit to hurl his teacup at the beast. 

“Hush you. You and I both know that I have not dreamt since leaving Erebor, you’re just being childish and stubborn.” The dragon growled low in his throat but it was not a threatening sound, more like a grumpy cat trying to get the last word. Thorin was stunned. “Even if my life was free I have Frodo now, I can’t go running across Middle Earth with a faunt.”

“Name your price Dragon” Thorin urged no-the-less, he’d sworn to free Bilbo years ago and no Dragon nor fussy Hobbit was going to get in his way. 

“My price? Oh how interesting… very well Thorin Oakenshield. If you want me to give up my Prize then you must give up yours. I will release the Dream walker to his own destiny once more if you give up your right to rule, pass the crown to your kin and never again be called Kind under the Mountain. The Hobbit or your Throne, you must pick one.”

“The Hobbit obviously!” Thorin reached out and pulled Bilbo to him kissing the Hobbit, as another petulant grown sounded through the room. “I’d give up a lot more than that to hold you in my arms.”

Though it clearly wasn’t the outcome the dragon had anticipated he honoured his word; Bilbo still did not wish to leave the Shire but now knew that if he wanted to he could. Also Bilbo now had the right to give his life to another. 

Later that year Thorin Oakenshield, Smithy of the Shire and Bad Luck Bilbo Baggins of Bag End wed in a grant ceremony under the party tree, attended by Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, a Wizard and one very sulky Fire Drake. In the Shadow of a Dragon and within the arms of his watchful warrior Bilbo Baggins never dreamt again, or at least not that he could remember.

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sniffle* Thank you all for sticking with me through this. I'm so happy to see it completed, I hope you enjoyed it and are satisfied with the ending! 
> 
> I am now turning to a few other storied and taking new requests so if you enjoyed this please check out some of my other work, if you've got an idea you'd like to send my way I'm always keen on a challenge and as always you are all AMAZING! 
> 
> P.S. My next fic is called "Nobbits" it is a comedy/Crack fic so if my other works have been a bit dark please check it out. I've only just started but the ideas between me and my housemate have had us in hysterics! 
> 
> Until next time!


	30. Letters From the Shire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters From the Shire - By Oreocat155338

Hey Lovelies, 

I bet you weren't expecting to hear from me again so soon! I just can't leave you all alone!

I come with great news, the lovely Oreocat155338 has started a series of letters from Thorin based on this fic! Letters From the Shire http://archiveofourown.org/works/10668621/chapters/23614647 Check it out!

Also I may come back and give you a real Hobbit Wedding to finish the fic for good SO if you have any questions, anything you'd like clarified or things you'd love to happen please comment and I will do my best! 

^_^

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Letters From the Shire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668621) by [Oreocat155338](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreocat155338/pseuds/Oreocat155338)




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